The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor
by Cody Guli
Summary: A new Fire Emblem fan-series that I'm working on. The purpose of The Journal of Renault is to delve deeper into the mysterious backstory of Renault, the second to last recruitable character in Fire Emblem: The Blazing Blade, from his time as a mercenary in Caelin to his pilgrimage to Valor and everything in between.
1. Chapter 1

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

**Chapter 1**

_A new Fire Emblem fanfiction series I'm working on. _The Journal of Renault _focuses on the character of...well, Renault from FE7. In FE7, we don't get much explanation of Renault's backstory other than a few tidbits in his support conversations, which makes him one of the few Fire Emblem characters with a mysterious backstory (don't ask me for other examples). Now while most people have just taken Renault and accepted him as a subpar endgame recruit, I on the other hand feel like this follower of Saint Elimine could use a little more fleshing out. Thus, I decided to create a little fan series dedicated to this cause. I hope you enjoy this series and if you do, don't forget to follow and review!_

* * *

Those nightmares still haunt me to this day…

I can still see his pale corpse in my dreams, shaking violently as it came back to life, the gray color in his eyes that were rolled back far into his head slowly returning, the motionless expression on his face...and all I could do was stand there and watch in great horror. I couldn't yell, turn away nor run. For some reason in that moment, my body was frozen still. I didn't feel angry, nor happy, nor bewildered...just frightened. Even now I can still hear the cackling laugh that came out of Nergal's ugly mouth. Damn him. Damn that fool for tricking me all that time ago, and damn me for falling for his honeyed words and toxic charm…

But that is not where my story starts.

My story begins instead with a mercenary job for Caelin.

Just a group of bandits, I thought to myself. They're nothing but a group of bandits. I could feel the sweat pour from my forehead and my hands tremble. Why was I so nervous? This was my living, bashing skulls in and acting reckless. I've faced worse many times before in the years I spent as a mercenary, and yet…

"Oi, Renault!" a familiar voice whispered. "Don't tell me your nervous." I turned my head to find my partner and a few other Caelin mercs crouched next to me, chuckling. I smiled and replied simply with "Never". We took one look at the situation in front of us: a makeshift base loaded with bandits inside. They were holding a group of women hostage and were prepared to kill them if we attacked, let alone found us. The Marquess of Caelin, an old man by the name of Hausen, had hired us to ensure that we returned the women safe and sound. We were getting paid extra if they returned unharmed, and one small slip could screw up the entire operation, and thus our payment. One of the mercs drew a bow and arrow and prepared to fire into the crowd, but as soon as the butt of the arrow made contact with the bowstring my friend motioned him to stand down. "If you attack now we'll risk losing the hostages, and that would never suit Marquess Hausen."

"He's right," I replied. "Save your arrows for now. After all, I have a better idea."

The man put down his bow in frustration, upset that he wasn't allowed a free kill. "Well let's hear it, Renault," he sneered. I proceeded to point at a small object in the distance, which turned out to be a keg. I explained to them how I could sneak up behind the base and slip a very powerful sedative into their wine so that eventually they would fall into a deep slumber and we could rescue the hostages without fault. When they asked me where said drug was, I produced a small white capsule from my pocket and told them that it would only take about twenty seconds for it to dissolve.

"It sounds dangerous," one said.

"It could ruin the whole mission," replied another.

"We won't know unless we try," my friend debated. "Renault, since this is your idea, I believe _you_ should have the honor of carrying it out."

I nodded with a smirk on my face. "Watch this," I whispered, and proceeded to slink down the hillside we were perched on towards the bandit hideout. As I got closer, I could hear the faint voices of the bandits and the roar of laughter grow louder. I could hear the shrieking and sobbing of the hostages inside, and in my soul I felt a boiling hatred building. When I finally got to the keg, I pulled out the capsule once more and slowly slipped it inside. The liquor made a small fizzing noise before settling down once more. At this moment, one of the men, perhaps the leader of the bandits, yelled to another to get the wine out. I began to panic and looked around for any and all cover to hide in. As the shadowy figure of the bandit grew closer, I had no choice but to duck on the other side of the base. I watched from my makeshift cover as he heaved the keg onto his shoulder, looking around to make sure no one was watching him, and then heading back inside. I sighed in victory and snuck back to the hillside, my companions smiling at my success.

"Now what?" said one of them.

"Now we wait," I replied, my eyes dead-set on the base.

A few minutes later the ruckus grew silent, and I motioned everyone to follow me down to the base silently but quickly. When we finally reached the inside we carefully tiptoed over the resting piles of brutish men towards the cage of hostages. I could see the look of joy as they began to stand up, but I quickly shushed them, pointing to the sleeping bandits strewn on the floor. They nodded in return as my friend handed me a lockpick. The lock on the cage was more than enough work, but eventually it gave way and the door swung open.

"Listen," I whispered softly. "There's an escort over on the hill to the west who will bring you back to Caelin. If you want to get to him, however, you must be absolutely silent and follow our instructions. Do you understand?" The women nodded. "Good. Now come take my hand. Quickly now."

As we led the girls out of the base, one of the bandits began to come round and saw us escorting them out. He quickly sprang to his feet and shouted, "Lads! We got ourselves some intruders!"

Damn, I thought, and we were so close too. I ushered the women to run to the escort and brandished my sword, while the other mercs followed suit. The bandits swarmed us from all sides, but we were able to fend them off well. As victory seemed close, more bandits sprung out of a hidden wine cellar and charged at us. My friend and I, fighting back to back, held off against the reinforcements. "Just like old times, eh Renault?" he guffawed. "Just like old times!" I laughed in return, slashing at the horde of bandits in front of me.

Eventually, when the dust settled we all took a moment to catch our breath and pat each other on the back. My friend turned to me with a smile on his face and said, "You know what Renault, your plan wasn't half bad as usual. Hell, Marquess Hausen should make you the Chief Strategist of Caelin. Maybe one of these days-"

His sentence was cut short as his smile turned into a look of shock. He looked down to find an arrow had penetrated his armor and into his backside towards his heart. I looked over to see one of the bandits, now completely dead, with a bow in his hand and a victorious look on his face. My friend began breathing heavily and slumped forward, though I managed to catch him before he fell to the ground. I called out for the others but he shushed me instantly. "Don't...don't bother, Renault...I've had it…" he whispered.

"No you haven't," I shivered. "We'll take you back to Caelin, get you mended, and you'll be fine. Just stay with me damn it!"

He chuckled. "Hey...remember that one job...when you told me we were...invincible together…? Good times, Renault...good...times…" As the last word escaped his mouth, he took one last breath before his eyes slowly shut. I felt his pulse stop and his breathing cease, and in that moment my anger and grief finally boiled over.

"No...NO!" I cried out. "Damn you, don't die now! Wake up!"

"Renault get off him!" called one of the others. "Face it man, he's dead!"

I believe that was the first time I ever felt great sorrow and even greater pain. From that moment forward, his death clouded my mind, haunted my dreams, made me insane…

It was in that moment that I truly understood loss.

* * *

The road back to Caelin was long and sulken. Nobody spoke a word, not even as we arrived into the kingdom. The rain fell softly and silently, and the village people, who looked joyous and carefree before, looked down glumly and began to mourn in silence as I carried my friend's corpse on my back, still shocked by his death. Even the castle guard could not say a word; they just moved aside to let us through towards the Marquess.

Marquess Hausen watched in sorrow as I lay my friend onto a guest bed, covering it in the snow white sheets of the bed. He put a hand on my shoulder, but refused eye contact with me. "Even for a mercenary," he sighed, "he was a fine man, and an even finer soldier."

"He didn't deserve to die, Marquess Hausen," I said through gritted teeth. "Why did he die? It isn't right…"

"It isn't right Renault, but perhaps this was his destiny, to die in the service. And we cannot alter destiny, as you should very well know."

"To hell with destiny!" I slammed the end table so hard that it made the maiden, who was standing bedside with the Marquess, jump in fright. I quickly apologized and gathered my emotions. "Marquess Hausen, I don't know what I should do...were I to turn back time, I would have gladly taken the arrow instead of him. But now that he is gone…"

"Renault, do not burden yourself further than you already have."

"How can I not? He was one of my dearest friends. He was like a brother to me…Marquess, what should I do? I feel so...helpless."

Marquess Hausen did not answer. Instead, he thanked the maiden for her services, turned around, and walked out of the room. Even without a clear answer, I refused to leave the room, and thus I ended up falling asleep kneeling down beside my friend's deathbed.

* * *

Come morning, I decided with the Marquess that I would take my friend's body and bury him in his homeland of Edessa in Ilia. Hausen told me he had prepared a cart and a coffin for my friend, to which his knights helped me load up. It took most of the morning to prepare him for burial, and all during the process I had to hold back my anger and grief. At last, with my friend loaded onto the cart, I set off for Edessa alone. Along the way I stopped at a nearby village to get food and water at the tavern. While I was enjoying my meal, I was approached by a strange man in dark clothing. I could feel his eyes pierce my soul as I looked at him. He was just standing there...staring at me.

"Can I help you, sir?" I asked half-annoyed.

"Yes," the man purred in a deep and oily voice, his blank expression turning into a wrought smile. "Yes perhaps you can." He took a seat next to me without breaking eye contact. "I heard you had lost a dear friend recently. Tis a shame, death is...and yet so inevitable."

"How did you know...look I don't know who the hell you are but-"

"At ease, my good man. I've come to help."

"How? How can you help? He's already dead."

"Perhaps, but what if I told you I could bring life back into him using nothing but pure magic?"

"I don't believe you, nor do I believe your type. Next you'll tell me you can cure plagues with an herbal remedy." I began to get up from my barstool and was about to walk out on him when he grabbed me by the arm. "Let go of me damn it!" I tried to loosen his grasp on my arm, but no matter how hard I tried, his grip was too strong. Inhumanly strong...

He could only smile at my feeble attempt to escape. "I am unlike the fools that call themselves ghost whisperers or death callers. I am a shaman of the highest order. My power stems from knowledge of the darkest art, necromancy. While others dream of achieving great knowledge and ultimate power, I have both at my disposal. I can create life from one of the basic building blocks of life: quintessence. Ah yes...sweet, delicious quintessence. It makes us, it surrounds us, it empowers us. Without it, people such as you and I would be mere husks. Hollow, soulless, emotionless husks wishing for death."

Could I believe what I was hearing from this madman's mouth? Perhaps, perhaps not. But he spoke not just to me as a person, he spoke to my inner greed, my deepest desires, my darkest whims...and for reasons unknown, I was a changed man in that moment. I sat back down silently as he let go of my arm, his wicked smile growing in size. "What do you want of me?" I asked.

"I need your assistance for a few experiments of mine. You see, I am in the midst of creating living, thinking humans. Morphs, I call them. All I need is a test subject so that I may get on with my work. And you, with your strength, your integrity, your courage, your heart...you would make a fine base for my tests."

There was a moment of silence as I thought carefully about the choices at hand. I could refuse this creepy old man and get moving with my original plan, but at that moment his words kept feeding my inner selfish desires. Without hesitation, I replied, "Alright. I will aid you in your experiments. However, under one condition: you will bring my friend back from the dead. Is that clear?"

"It shall be done. Now come, we have much work to do…"

"Wait!" A pause. "What is your name, sorcerer?"

The old man turned his head back to face me, eyes gleaming with evil and his smile crooked. After another long pause, he replied with only one word: "Nergal."

* * *

_And that's the end of Chapter 1. To be fair, this was interesting to write since I had to do quite a bit of research into Renault's character. Again, I hope you liked Chapter 1 and of course remember to follow and leave a review for more! I also am planning to write my first fantasy fiction novel in the coming days with this series as a side project, but I promise that Chapter 2 will be on its way soon!_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

**Chapter 2**

_Well, just only a few days after I uploaded Chapter 1, I am finally uploading Chapter 2. In the last chapter, we got through the beginning of Renault's adventures and have met Nergal. Now in Chapter 2, we'll see where this unlikely pairing will go with their experiments. Again, don't forget to follow and review if you like what you've read so far!  
Also, I plan to do a somewhat similar project as this but with Fire Emblem Three Houses characters, almost in the direction of Genealogy gen 2/Fire Emblem 6. If you would like to see that, let me know in the reviews! For now, Chapter 2 of _The Journal of Renault_!_

* * *

"I'm looking to join your band of mercenaries."

These words alone sparked the beginning of my years in the mercenary business. I was in my late teens at the time and very desperate for money. The year before, my father was killed in an accident while travelling for his merchant business and my mother died not too long after from illness, leaving me to wander the streets looking for even a single coin. I had heard of Caelin's mercenaries many times before, but the fact that I was still young and still inexperienced with a blade made me anxious as to whether or not I would actually qualify for a spot on their roster. Regardless, I gave it a go, and to my surprise they took me in.

And that's when I met him.

It was my first day of training and I was nervous as hell, but when I looked over at him, he looked calm, composed, and prepared. He wasn't much older than I was, and yet he looked like he had done this before. Our leader, a tall and brutish redheaded man by the name of Cobalt, gathered us and four other men together in the preparation room of House Caelin.

"Listen here boys," he growled in a sonorous tone, "you should all know by now that mercenary work is nothing like the training you are about to receive. While we'll be using sparring weapons today, you'll be using actually weapons on our missions. Now Marquess Hausen has put a lot of faith in both my leadership and our collective strength, and I don't wish to sully either of those just because one of you aren't prepared for the burdens that come with being a mercenary. Loss, betrayal...you will certainly encounter these at one point or another."

"That being said, I want you all to know that you will not be paid for your training, nor will you be paid for the first two missions that you'll be sent on. That includes myself as well. Payment will come once you have proven yourself worthy of being a true soldier."

I became very confused. Wasn't the whole point of me joining this band of mercenaries for money? What was the point of this if I wasn't going to get paid until-

"Oi bright eyes," said the guy next to me with a laugh. "You look lost. Were you surprised that we're not getting paid? It should be normal for rookies like yourself." I didn't answer. It wasn't funny to me, I thought. I've been in need of money for a long while now. Who was this guy to make a joke over something like that?

Not too long after, I heard someone else whisper in my ear. "Never mind him. I bet he's also pissed that he's not getting paid. Guys like that will try to get into your head, but don't let their cockiness lead you astray. And if any of them give you trouble, I'm sure Cobalt or even myself will step in and teach them a lesson. The name's Briar, by the way. This is my first rodeo with a gang of mercenaries as well, but I've been practicing my swordplay since I could walk. But enough about me, how about you?"

This guy seemed so sure of himself, and yet at the same time he generally cared deeply for my feelings, like brothers would. I could hear his generosity overshadow his surefire brashness in every word that came out of his lips. Calmed by his words, I gathered my words and spoke up. "Renault," I replied. "I don't have much practice with a blade, if any. I doubt that I'll be tough enough for mercenary work but hey, one can dream right?"

"Not with that mindset you won't. Sure mercenary work is a tough business, but as long as you know how to hold a weapon, anyone can do it. You just gotta believe in yourself and trust your gut. If you can do that, you can wield a blade, and if you can wield a blade, you can be a mercenary. It's as simple as that." A pause. "Well, looks like the other guys are heading to the training grounds. You coming?"

I nodded. I didn't realize that in that moment, I had met the one person who would become one of my closest friends.

* * *

I was startled suddenly by a long smack, only to turn my head and find that the sound originated from a large book Nergal had slammed on the table. "Focus, Renault!" he snarled as he looked at me rather annoyed. I nodded and acknowledged his orders, which were to write down the information he gave me from the experiments he was doing behind me, to which he would later translate into complex equations. I wasn't sure what he planned to do with them after but I suppose that's none of my business. After all, I was hardly qualified to write the equations myself, so it was best left to him. Behind me, I could hear him pacing back and forth, muttering some sort of gibberish as I continued scribbling down my notes. What little information I could hear was something about quintessence, which he explained earlier was the life force from all living beings (human or otherwise), and something about a "vessel". When I turned back around, he was back at his table testing on a small rodent. Whatever it was, I didn't want to know. As soon as I went back to writing down the last bit of information, I heard a loud growl and turned around only to watch as Nergal threw the rodent he had been testing on at the wall, effectively killing it in the process. He clasped his hands on his face and sat in the chair next to mine, looking very defeated. "This will never do! I need a proper human subject, but where do I find one that can suit my needs?" he groaned. I could tell things were looking dire for him, so I spoke up.

"What about me, Master Nergal? Surely I could be your test subject?"

"Don't be foolish, boy. You're still a vital part in helping me in completing my experiments. Besides, the adverse side effects alone could do untold damage to your body and mind."

"It all depends on what you plan on doing."

He sighed. "What I need is a good amount of quintessence from a living being, but not just any living being. I need a human being, one with a substantially high amount of quintessence, and rarely are there human beings in this world with that amount." He suddenly paused to mull things over before he turned back towards me, eyes beaming with evil joy. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" I asked, curious but frightened of what may come next.

Suddenly he jumped up from his chair, his face just a few inches from mine. "I know of one such man. Yes...a man of the Saint Elimine church, or rather he was before his wife had a child. I have met him several times before in the past few years, and even then I could taste the quintessence eminatting off him...yes, he'll do wonderfully for this experiment."

"But what do we have to do with him?"

It was then that I could feel that wretched, devilish smile of his fully transform into pure insanity. I found out in this moment how much of a sick and twisted man Nergal truly was, for what he told me next shocked me out of my mind.

"We have to kill him."

I was taken completely aback. Sure I had made a living off bashing skulls and massacring groups of men, but in those cases they were either bandits or pirates or criminals of some sort. But murder? That was far beyond my limit. I couldn't kill for such an insane reason as gathering quintessence for a madman in a cloak. It was out of the question, far too ridiculous, and psychotic in every sense. In my mind, I kept yelling at myself to reject this man's evil intentions and to run as far away from him as possible, but for some reason these actions wouldn't form. All that came out was "Master Nergal…" before I was whisked from my seat.

"Come, Renault," cried Nergal. "We must make haste! This well of quintessence isn't going to collect itself!"

What damnation have I mixed myself into now, I thought sadly as I was dragged onto a carriage outside, unprepared for whatever events were about to unfold.

* * *

_That about does it for chapter 2! Hope you're enjoying the story so far and of course, don't forget to leave a review and follow for more! Also don't forget to let me know if you want to see that Three Houses series I mentioned earlier. And of course stay tuned for chapter 3!_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

**Chapter 3**

_So I apologize for the large delay in between chapters. I got sick from the flu about a few days after I posted the last chapter and was out of commission for about a week, plus with the coronavirus pandemic and a whole bunch of other personal stuff still up in the air I've been working my butt off at my day job (well technically afternoon job since I'm second shift) to get the extra money for an apartment. Luckily I've had time to plan the next few chapters so stay tuned for those and until then don't forget to rate and review this series for more!_

* * *

I felt a hand grasp lightly onto my shoulder. I turned around swiftly and found Briar as the origin of the hand. Realizing that he had caught my attention, he removed it from my shoulder and spoke softly to me, "Your swings are too jagged. Try adjusting your grip on the handle so that your hand is closer to the crossguard, and try to put a little more flick in your swings."

"I don't see what's wrong with the way I swing. Every time I've held a sword I've always swung it this way," I replied half-sheepishly. It felt embarrassing being a mercenary but still having to be taught by someone I didn't know how to use a sword correctly, even if I was still a little rusty. And was I truly in the right to ask such a question? Nevertheless, he didn't bat an eye.

"Fighters have all sorts of ways that they hold their weapons, but those who have trained themselves to hold it the right way are more successful. While your way is good for something like a short sword or a dagger, if you were to wield that sword like that in battle, it would take about a swing or two to knock it from your hand. And if that happens you won't have much time to grab it before you get your ass kicked." He paused. "Now try what I have taught you. Take your left hand and grasp the handle firmly under the crossguard."

Left hand under the crossguard, check.

"Now with your right hand grasp firmly just above the hilt."

Right hand above the hilt, check.

"Focus on the target in front of you."

Target focused in front of me.

"And swing."

I swung the sword downward and with a mighty _CLUNK_, the blade found itself nestled into a groove that it created. I pulled the sword back up and looked back at Briar, who nodded in approval. "There you have it," he said. "A perfect swing. One accurate, fluid motion. No hesitation, no shakiness, just pure force."

"I still feel more comfortable handling this sword with one hand. It allows me just a little more freedom, you know?" I asked.

"I would worry more about your technique for now rather than your freedom of movement. Besides, there's no need to try and impress these other guys. Your swordplay is but party tricks to them. You'll thank me later."

I wasn't trying to impress anyone, I thought. If anything, I was more or less trying to impress and improve myself. I didn't care for what anyone else thought about my swordplay, not even Briar. If they thought it was good then it was good. If not, so be it. My goal was not appreciation, it was money.

"Alright men," called out our Captain. "Grab a bow and a quiver. It's time we see who amongst us is a deadeye and who is the lame duck of the group."

Archery practice. Great. I've never even shot a bow before, so now I knew that I was bound to make a fool of myself. Regardless, I stepped up to the bow rack and grabbed the only bow and quiver remaining. They were in pretty fair shape, but a few of the arrows in the quiver were a bit worse for wear. I noticed this and was prepared to bring them to Captain Cobalt when Briar stopped me and handed me a fresh bundle. "Here, take 'em," he whispered, ushering the arrows in my face. "I'll take the ones you have."

Having swapped projectiles, I lined up with the others in front of a row of targets and prepared an arrow. I took a deep breath and pulled it back on the string as far as I could. I raised the bow, aimed hard, and released. _FWAP! _My eyes widened. The arrow had pierced the target just a few inches below the bullseye. I couldn't believe that I had actually hit the target. Briar, who was to my left, leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Great shot Renault, but don't get too cocky. You get too cocky and those shots will start to fly all over the place. Just keep calm and collected, and try not to think about where the arrow will land." I just nodded and pretended I was listening as I prepped another arrow to fire. I took a deep breath and released the arrow, but this time the shot was far off from where I hit last time. I turned to see if Briar was going to make another snarky remark, but surprisingly he noticed nothing.

Surprisingly, the day came and went rather quickly and practice ended as the sun began to settle. While the other mercenaries left laughing and shoving each other, I stayed behind and sat on a hay bale parallel to one of the archery targets. I kept thinking the same thing over and over again in my head: "Maybe I'm not cut out for this kind of profession". Was I right to think that after just one day? Sure being a fighter isn't easy, but could it really be this hard? Even Briar made it look so easy, and he and I are around the same age and talent. Perhaps it's instinct? As these thoughts circulated in my mind I felt the hay bale shift a bit, and I turned to find Briar sitting next to me.

"You look lost," he chuckled. "Got something on your mind?"

I sighed. "Just exhausted," I fibbed. Briar shook his head, as if he was calling my bluff, and put a hand on my shoulder. He's pretty touchy-feely isn't he, I thought.

"You're upset because you feel like you didn't do good today, huh?"

I didn't answer.

"Let me tell you something, Renault. When I was young and in-training, my father would be the crap out of me if I made even one small mistake. And whenever I cried, he'd beat me even more. I thought he was a complete asshole, but as I grew I realized why he did it. He wanted me to act like a man, and he thought the only way to do that was to punish me for my mistakes, even the smallest ones. Eventually the tears stopped coming and the beatings were less frequent. My point is that the only way we can grow stronger is if we push ourselves to improve. I had to force myself to become a man to make my father proud, and in return my combat skills and maturity vastly improved. All you gotta do is bust your ass off day in and day out, push your limits, and soon you'll start to see improvement. Did you get all that?"

I nodded.

"I know I may come off as annoying or picky, but trust me when I say I DO want you to succeed. I just have a bad habit of giving tough love, you know?"

I'll admit, that last bit made me chuckle. "Yeah, sure thing," I said with a laugh.

Briar and I sat for a moment in silence before he decided to speak up again. "Tell you what," he grunted as he rose from his seat, "let's go to the tavern. I'll buy you a drink, hell I'll buy you two if you want."

"I definitely could use one after today," I chuckled as I stood.

The two of us left the base side-by-side, and at that moment I had realized something. I didn't just feel like we became best friends, nor just friends.

I feel like we became brothers.

* * *

The rain began to pour even harder the closer night came. I turned my head towards Nergal, who throughout the journey refused to make eye contact with me. He looked as though he was lost in thought, completely lifeless like a corpse but yet so alive. He didn't move an inch, even as the carriage rocked to the rhythm of the dirt path, which was slowly turning to wet mud. He finally snapped back to reality as the cart suddenly jerked forward and came to a halt. I peered out the side of the wagon to see what had happened and found one of the front wheels mired in a small ditch of mud. I turned back to Nergal, who didn't say a word.

"Master Nergal," I said, "one of the front wheels got-"

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware, boy," he interrupted.

"Are we not going to fix it?"

He looked at me coldly. "You mean are _you_ going to fix it? I'm too old for this kind of manual labor, boy."

Having no choice but to fix it myself, I sighed and marched to the back of the caravan to grab the spare wheel. As I heaved the heavy object out of the back, a crack of lightning crashed into the muddy earth with a roaring _BOOM! _I stumbled backwards and fell into a puddle of muck, dropping the wheel as I fell. Nergal, impatient with my antics, snapped at me to hurry up. I rose to my feet, groaning at the fact that my clothes were stained with mud and grass, picked up the spare wheel and got to work. In almost no time at all, I managed to get the dud wheel replaced with the spare and we began again. I was still annoyed by the state of my attire, but I said nothing in the fear that I would bother Master Nergal.

The rest of the jaunt didn't last that much longer, and soon we were at our destination: a cottage on the outskirts of the city of Reglay, shrouded by a thick blanket of trees and ominously quiet save for the pattering rain. The hill leading up to it was at a sharp incline and, in this weather, too dangerous to try and bring the carriage up without slipping and sliding. Nergal snapped out of his trance and began to dig at the inside of his cloak, soon producing a small dagger that looked almost new in appearance and sharp to the touch. At first I was confused by his attempts to gesture it into my hand, but I soon realized what he was getting at.

"You...you want _me _to kill him?" I gulped. Surely he's joking, I thought. Mercenary work was one thing, but this was murder! Killing an actual human being for all the wrong reasons...I couldn't. I would never! This was absurd! I wanted to run, I wanted to refuse, but for some reason his gaze prevented me from resisting.

"You must. You have no other choice. You agreed to assist me in my work, and so you are bound to my orders," Nergal growled, putting the weapon in my hand.

"But Master Nergal-"

"Keep your voice down fool!" he hissed silently.

"But Master Nergal," I whispered, "is this even right? Killing bandits is one thing, but murder...I can't go to those extremes."

"So you refuse?"

"Yes. I cannot, I will not, carry out this order."

Nergal did not flinch. Instead, his lips curled into a smirk as he said "I understand, my dear boy" before pressing two fingers to my forehead. A small light emitted from his fingertips and suddenly a freezing sensation pierced my head, like sharp cold icicles digging into the depths of my brain. It stung horribly. "I understand that you are a foolish young pup who needs to listen to his master when he gives orders," Nergal finished. I tried to pry myself away from him, but I couldn't move. I felt paralyzed by his magic, unable to find the will to move. I tried to yell, but nothing came out. I was frozen, physically and mentally. Then, the bitter cold feeling inside my head turned blazing hot and a walm, velvety feeling coated my body. My tensed muscles began to relax, and my will faded.

"Now you listen to me, boy," he spoke to my hypnotized vassal as he showed me a rough picture of the target, "this is the man you must kill. He is an enemy to me, to this nation, and to this world. Once you have killed him, we shall take his quintessence and head back to base. Should we succeed without any interruptions, I will be able to return your friend to life. Understood?"

"Yes Master Nergal" were the only words that came out of my mouth, despite the fact that on the inside I kept shouting at myself to snap out his trance. My consciousness kept slamming at the walls of Nergal's magic without much success. As a matter of fact, every time I tried to fight back I was pushed further and further away. To try and regain my own will was a losing battle.

Even my body, which at one point followed my orders, was now working against me. I could feel my legs moving on their own, eyes beginning to seethe with hate, as we approached the lone cabin. The grip on the knife in my hand grew tighter. The urge to break free grew weaker. And soon enough, the door stood in front of me. Nergal hid around the corner of the doorway, smirking with victory as I knocked three times. There were a few soft voices, a set of footsteps, and the sound of the doorknob turning. The door swung open to reveal a middle-aged dressed in nightwear. He looked at me in frustration.

"Eh? Who in the blazes are you?" he barked. Without hesitation, I drove the dagger in my hand into his chest at full speed. I watched as his eyes widened and he stumbled backwards, the color from his face slowly draining. I heard the shrill cry of terror from his wife as the man slumped to the floor, collapsing and breathing heavily in a pool of his own blood. I turned my gaze to the child. He did not move at the sight of my crime, but was instead frozen in pure shock and fear. I began advancing towards them, sheer hate in my eyes, but Nergal pulled me back.

"That's enough," he said, the same wretched smirk plastered on his face. He slinked towards the man on the floor, chuckling to himself, and knelt down beside him.

"You...blackheart…" the man groaned forcefully. Nergal ignored him and placed a hand over his heart. A dull light shimmered and an ethereal string of aura traveled out of the man. His breath became more labored until at last, it ceased. The woman screamed again and Nergal, annoyed with her, raised a finger towards her. Another light, this one brighter than the last, shined from his fingertip and both the woman and child fell into a deep slumber. Satisfied, Nergal turned the other way and began to walk out the door. "Come," he said to me. I could feel my legs moving on their own again towards the carriage. As we sat back down and began to ride back home, Nergal snapped his fingers and I came to my senses. I saw his mouth curled into a coy smile, and that's when I looked down to see my hands coated in fresh blood. That's when I realized what I've done.

I've just committed a murder.

* * *

_Stay tuned for the next part! Hopefully this damn coronavirus pandemic doesn't stunt my writing activities so I can get the next couple of chapters done ASAP._


	4. Chapter 4

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

**Chapter 4**

_Well, the coronavirus is still going around screwing things up at work, leaving me little time to work on writing outside work. I'm not 100% sure if there will be a delay on the next few chapters (I'm praying there isn't), but if there is I hope you will understand. Until then, enjoy chapter four and don't forget to rate and review for more!_

* * *

"Line up lads! And make it quick!" Cobalt barked.

We lined up as fast as we could, shoulder width apart, ears and eyes wide open, mouths shut. In front of us was the same training field that we practiced both our sword and bow skills on, but this time everything was pushed to the side, leaving us with enough space for a house to be built on. The Captain stepped forward with two large, heavy sacks and heaved them to the ground. Inside both were rough-cut swords made of oak wood and leather chest plates. Training gear, I thought and looked at Briar, who was grinning. He knew what was about to come.

"Now then," the Captain continued, "the plan for today, gentlemen, is sparring practice. Reflex is an important tool in every fighters' arsenal. It's what keeps your head from getting chopped off like a chicken getting prepared to be eaten. You won't last long on the field if you don't know when to dodge and when to strike, and that's what today is all about. You'll be paired into groups of two and pitted against each other in a sparring match."

"The winner will be decided when one person not only disarms but also pins his opponent to the ground. That's disarm _and_ pin, not one or the other. Normal sparring rules apply. Nothing below the belt, nothing above the chest, no chucking your weapons, you get the idea. If someone gets seriously injured, which I doubt will happen, then I will call 'stop' and the fighting will cease there. Now that I've made myself clear, let us begin." Without hesitation, Cobalt dug both his hands into both sacks and produced two of each item. He threw one pair at me, and the other towards Briar. "You two are up first. Hurry and get ready."

Both Briar and I wasted no time in getting ourselves prepared for the mock battle. Both of us were filled with a lot of energy, but unlike Briar I was more nervous than excited. I never sparred with anyone in my life before, so it was obvious that I would be shaking and sweating. Every time that I tried to stop shaking, I started sweating more, and every time I tried to stop sweating I ended up shaking more. It was almost like I wasn't in control of my body.

"Hey Renault! You sick or something?" chuckled Briar. "Come on! The fight's begun!"

Screw you, I thought. I'm nervous and you know that very well. The other men in our group started surrounding us and roaring in applause as Briar drew slowly closer, primed and ready to strike at any given moment. I drew a deep breath and focused on him, drawing my sword with a shaky arm. I tried to take my focus off this uneasy feeling in my gut, but it felt like it was looming over me, taunting me, leering at me, as if to make me lose my focus. I shook my head and advanced forward, determined to get the better of him. I lunged first, aiming for his gut. A miss. Damn it, I thought. I left myself wide open to an attack. However, for some reason, Briar just watched me as I stumbled past him. No counterattack, no parry, nothing. It was as if I was striking at thin air. All he could do was grin.

"Now come on Renault. You can do better than that. I know you can. Remember what I taught you," Briar said calmly. Easy for him to say; he hasn't even made a move since this whole fight started. Perhaps this was all part of his plan? Nevertheless, I took his advice and prepared another attack. Left hand under the crossguard, right hand underneath, target in focus, and swing.

_CLUNK!_

The tip of the blade collided with the ground. Another miss…

"Close," Briar said, "but not close enough."

Eventually I lost patience. Just shut up, I yelled in my mind. I took another swing, and missed. And another. And another. And another...all misses. I was right, I thought. I _am _swinging at thin air. Is it because he's just too quick, or is it that I'm too careless? Come on Renault, I said in my head, you got this. He's not expecting my next move. He couldn't be. He's too busy gloating as I'm wearing myself down. I concentrated every bit of energy that I had into this next strike. I rushed towards him with every ounce of strength and thrusted the weapon towards him. I could feel the weight of my blade grow heavy, and at first I thought I got him. As I looked up however, my joy turned quickly to shock.

I missed, again. Briar had deflected my shot to the ground. And worse still, he was on my blind side.

"Good effort," he chuckled, whipping my back with his blade, "but all in a losing battle." I felt my blade fall out of my hands as my body careened towards the earth and smacked against it with a generous _THUD_. My breathing became heavy and I couldn't move my body, no matter how much I tried. Come on damn it...get up, I thought angrily to myself. I can't...lose like this. But no matter how much effort I gave, my body refused to listen. I felt paralyzed, defeated, and embarrassed. To make things even more embarrassing for me, the last thing I saw before losing consciousness was Briar standing over me, blade pointed at my chest, and the words "Nice try" escaping his lips…

* * *

When I came to, I was lying on a bunk, sweat-soaked clothes still on, and who else but _him_ sitting next to me. My vision was still a little hazy, but it eventually became clear. I tried to sit up, but the shooting pain in my spine forced me back down like a bear pinning his meal to the ground.

"Don't force yourself," Briar said. "You took quite a beating out there."

"You gave me quite a beating," I grumbled. He just laughed it off.

"Yeah sorry about that. Luckily the clerics say it's just a bruise on your back, so you'll live." Silence fell for a moment. "The Captain should be in any second to check up on you."

"And you?"

"I'll be around the mess hall. After all that commotion, I'm starving. Want me to bring you back anything?"

"I'll be fine."

Briar frowned. "Listen Renault, I can understand you're upset with me but-"  
"Who said I was upset at you? I'm more pissed off that I can't sit up. It feels like someone jammed needles into my spine…"

"Like I said, you'll live. Here comes the Captain now. Look sharp." Briar and the Captain exchanged a few words before going their separate ways. I wasn't able to translate what they said to each other, but I could tell by Cobalt's face that things were not looking up for me. This is it, I thought. I'm screwed. My days in this guild are through. We're going to have to let you go, he'll say. Not good enough for the line of battle, he'll say. Should have become a farmer, he'll say.

But surprisingly, he said none of that. "How do you feel?" he said in an uncharacteristic soft tone.

I took a deep breath and replied, "How do you think I feel?" Wrong answer, Renault. Wrong goddamn answer. Surprisingly again, the Captain just laughed it off.

"You may be an inexperienced fighter," he laughed, "but you sure have jokes, Renault." He went from laughing to dead serious faster than I've seen anyone go before. "But there's another thing you have more than anyone, more than Briar, more than I do: guts. I could see it on your face that whole fight; you were dead set on winning at any cost, no matter what kind of abuse your body would take."

"And yet I still lost…"

"You lost because you allowed yourself to get exhausted, and Briar took that as an opportunity to strike. His approach was carefully planned and well executed, whereas yours was just a mere demonstration of carelessness. And it's because of that carelessness that you're on this bunk right now. If you really want to be remembered as a great fighter, to have your name spread throughout the continent of Elibe, to be heralded by Marquess Ostia as I and many before me were, you need to learn that swinging carelessly at everything and everyone you do battle against is only going to get you killed. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Captain. I understand quite well…"

"Good. Just rest for now. You've done quite enough today." As the Captain turned and walked out of the medical ward, he turned his head back and said, "And Renault…" A pause. "I understand Briar has told me that he has a good deal of faith in you. Don't spoil that faith. For both his sake, and mine."

He began to walk away, but stopped short and turned back around, adding "One more thing. Briar wanted me to give you this." He reached into his pocket and tossed a small, shiny object onto my chest: a silver ring with a band of gold running down the middle.

I watched him walk away, his head hanging in shame as if he had just come from a funeral for someone close to him. As he left, I remembered what he had said: "Swinging carelessly at everything and everyone you do battle against will only get you killed" and "Don't spoil that faith". All this time that I've been in Captain Cobalt's guild, I wanted to prove that I _was _strong, and that I _was _fearless, but instead I only proved that I was foolish and absentminded in my fighting methods. I realized that if I wasn't careful, I could be kicked out of the guild for good, and then I would have to return to living out on the streets looking for money off the ground. And I wasn't prepared to return to that life. So in that moment I decided to make myself a promise. I promised that I wasn't going to let the Captain or Briar down. I wasn't going to let the others in the guild down. I was going to prove that I _am _strong, that I _am _fearless, that I can prove to be a great fighter, one whose name would be shouted all across Ostia, across Elibe.

Even if it kills me…

* * *

I removed the rain-soaked cloak and threw it to the side as we entered. Nergal kept his on, for whatever reason I wasn't sure. As Nergal left the room, I could tell he was getting more and more excited from the trembling of his hands and the silent huffing chuckle of his. My mind still ran blank from the magic he used on me, so I didn't say anything. I couldn't. How could I? I was no longer really human. I felt like a shell of my former self, a living husk. The only sense of feeling I had was in the deepest parts of my conscious, all of which was being suffocated by this empty feeling. I was nothing but a puppet hung from a string...Nergal's puppet. This is wrong, I kept thinking to myself. I shouldn't be here, helping this...maniac. Nergal eventually returned with what else but the corpse of my friend Briar, as if I need yet another reason to regret my choices. The sight was horrific, but the smell was even worse. The body, now in its rigor mortis state, smelled absolutely rancid, like milk that had been left outside for weeks to spoil or the fecal matter of a horse that had aged badly. I wanted to vomit, to turn away in disgust, but these feelings didn't come to me as they naturally should. I felt a lurch in my stomach as Briar was placed on the floor, his arms at his sides and his legs together. He almost looked like a soldier in the position he was in, but lying flat instead of standing tall and proud. Without time to think about his actions, Nergal produced a bottle with some strange looking matter inside, a bottle that contained the quintessence of the man we- no, I- killed, and removed the cork. With a wave of his hand, the matter began to levitate and swirl in the air. And then, like a thunderbolt crashing into the earth, the matter shot itself into Briar's corpse.

And then, it happened.

Briar's corpse began shaking violently as it came back to life, the gray color in his eyes that were rolled back far into his head slowly returning, the motionless expression on his face. All I could do was stand there and watch in great horror. I couldn't yell, turn away nor run. For some reason at that moment, my body was frozen still. I didn't feel angry, nor happy, nor bewildered...just frightened.

Nergal cackled as the corpse, once lifeless and dull, began to rise into the air and onto its feet. The dark aura around it slowly began to fade, and the body made its descent back down to the earth. Then, it began to breathe. It moved its fingers crookedly.

And then, it opened its eyes.

"Yes...yes!" Nergal cried out. "Marvelous! Years of study...hours of pain-staking equations and experiments...blood, sweat, and tears, and now I have finally created...life! I have defied death...witnessed rebirth...I am a genius- no...I am a GOD!" With these words, he began circling his "creation", eyeing its properties, gracing its armor of skin cold to the touch, and gazing into its lifeless, emotionless eyes. All the while, the human in me finally returned.

"Master Nergal...this thing…" I stuttered.

"Eh? What's wrong with you, boy? Frightened by the sight of your friend now? After all it was _you_ who wanted to bring him back to life, was it not?"

"Yes…" I walked up to the reanimated Briar and looked at him. He didn't blink, nor did he look anywhere but straight ahead. "Briar? Can you hear me?"

No answer.

"Briar, it's me! Renault! Your best friend! Your companion! You _must _remember me!"

Still no answer.

"Briar come on! This isn't funny! Look…" I dug through my pockets to retrieve the silver ring from him. "You gave me this as a sign of our companionship. You taught me everything I know about combat, about strength. Come on damn you, say something!"

All that and still no answer.

"Master Nergal...this thing...this is not Briar!"

Nergal could only chuckle in his usual evil ways. "You asked for your friend back, so brought him back I did."

"But this thing...it isn't even human!"

"I'm well aware of that, boy. It's a morph."

"A morph? What are you-"

"Using the power of the quintessence from the man you killed, I was able to revive your friend here. However, while quintessence is the source of all life, an energy that makes and surrounds us, in the form we gathered it in, it is nothing more than pure energy. It does not retain useless characteristics such as emotion; instead its only purpose in existence is to breathe life into humankind."  
"How can you call emotion a useless characteristic? You're mad...honestly mad!"

"Mad? Ha! Spoken from the lips of a murderer like you, I am surprised!"  
"I am no murderer...you forced me to kill that man with your black magic! You're cruel

mad, and sadistic! Absolutely sadistic!"

"Enough! Begone with you boy, before I change my mind about keeping you alive."

That was all I needed to hear. I turned and ran as fast as my body would physically let me outside into the night and away from Nergal's grasp, all while I could hear his dastardly cackle in the distance. The rain poured to the rhythm of my footsteps, which picked up the pace as I raced downhill. I wanted to get as far as humanly possible from Nergal. All the while my mind raced with dark and deceptive thoughts. The face of that man when I stabbed him in the chest. The sight of Briar as he slumped to the ground and to his death. The horror of watching his corpse rise from the dead, all of which repeated in my head as I continued to run away. I could hear my conscious screaming "I am human! I am not a morph! I am human! I am not a morph!" as thunderbolts crashed in the skies above me.

I can't remember how far I ran, or how fast I was going. All I knew was that I was soaked from head to toe, shivering cold, exhausted from running, and hungry. My sight became blurry as I approached a large, black shadow in the form of a building. I lumbered ever so closer to it without a second thought, without worrying what I was walking into. I could have been walking into a bandit camp and to my death, or into the house of the man I was forced to murder. Thankfully, it was neither. Instead it was a large church with sturdy brown doors: the church of Saint Elimine. I used the last amount of energy I had to run up to the doors and attempt to open them. Locked. I began slamming on the doors with bare hands, shouting "Open up! Open up! Dear gods, open up!" I heard the sound of footsteps approaching and unlocking the doors.

The only thing I could remember after that was collapsing with a bright silhouette standing over me, and my vision fading to black while Nergal's laugh echoed through my head…

* * *

_I think this might be the longest chapter I've done. I could be wrong, but I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 5 coming soon, so stay tuned!_


	5. Chapter 5

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

Chapter 5

_Alright, I'm not gonna sugarcoat this: I fucked up a bit.  
I was on a roll and then I just died again not even an eighth into writing this chapter._

_But now I'm back, despite my brain a little more mush than before thanks to work and COVID-19 bullcrap (#BlameWalmart)._

_If you want to stay up-to-date with this series or any other fanfics I do, feel free to join my brand new Discord server (link is on my Twitter page, guligotgames__)_

_And as always, I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

The sun was barely over the horizon, and there I was standing in the cold light of early, shivering and shaking trying to keep warm. The training ground was empty and silent except for the soft moan of the morning breeze. Still in pain over my training incident with Briar, I clutched my back in agony and winced. I hated the pain; it only aggravated me even more than I already was. I was annoyed by the fact that I lost to him, but even more annoyed that he did it in embarrassing fashion. I grimaced even more as I tried to stretch out my sore muscles, the feeling of red-hot needles piercing my skin. I clenched my teeth together as I grabbed one of the training blades from the barrel, my muscles silently groaning in excruciating pain. I can't embarrass myself in battle like I did in training, I thought. I have to better myself, starting now.

With both hands, I grasped the handle of the blade and faced the training dummy in front of me. I took a deep breath and swung upward towards the arm. _CLUNK!_ The uppercut landed. I took another swing, this time at the midsection. _CLUNK! _Another hit. I smiled and wiped the sweat from my forehead, and then I remembered what Briar had said: "Good effort, but all in a losing effort". Cocky bastard, I thought. He'd best be prepared to eat those wo-

"Well, well. Look who's up and early today," a voice had called behind me.

I turned around panting like a tired mutt, and who else but Briar was standing there. Damn it, I thought. Not him again.

"I didn't take you for the early morning training type," he snickered. "You must still be angry over our battle."  
"Pissed," I replied heavily. "I can't believe I let _you_ kick my ass."

"You know full well why I beat you, Renault."

I didn't answer.

"You lost because you were acting too rash for your own good. Instead of focusing on my weak points, you got angry and started swinging wildly. You let your mind do the talking instead of your weapon and you'll find yourself dead in a real battle in a matter of seconds. You have to learn how to exploit your opponent's weaknesses before you start swinging." Briar walked over and picked up another practice blade. "There's so much more to battle that both you and I have to learn, but before you can reach my level of understanding you have to relearn the basics. And that's what I intend to help you with."

"I don't need your damn help," I muttered angrily. "I can do this myself."  
Briar frowned and shook his head. "Renault, trust me when I say this: I'm not trying to insult your skill, nor am I trying to make you look worthless. I want you to succeed as a mercenary in this guild as much as I want myself to succeed, but if this is how you're going to go about your training, dare I say it, you may never end up the person you want to be. If you really want to beat my ass that bad, the least I can do is help you improve."

Perhaps he was right. I didn't use my head when we fought and I wasn't using my head now. I was so upset at the fact that I lost in embarrassing fashion that I was too busy to point out my own flaws. As I looked down at the blade in my hand, I wondered what I could have said or done better. He was right; I let my anger get a hold of me and let it control my actions. If I was going to prove myself better than him, I have to learn to control my anger and put all that energy into my focus.

"Alright," I sighed. "What do you have in mind?"

Briar smiled once more. "That's more like it. Seeing as how I already taught you about maintaining your fighting stance, let me teach you a few more secrets I know."

I nodded.  
"Now then, prepare yourself Renault!"

Little did I realize that as we clashed weapons, there hiding in the corner was the Captain watching us with a big, gritty smile.

* * *

I woke up to find myself in a bed inside the church. My head was absolutely killing me and my body felt weak and hot. Damn that Nergal to hell, I thought as I rubbed the temple of my head. It felt like someone hit me on the head with a plank of wood. When I was fully awake, I had come to the realization that not only was I in physical pain but I was also stripped naked in this bed. Thank the Gods no one else was in here to see me like this, especially a woman, I thought. But as soon as that thought crossed my mind, an old bishop walked into the room with a warm and wrinkly smile on his face. I quickly covered my bare parts up as he advanced towards the bed and sat down.

"How do you feel, dear child?" he spoke raspily. "Are you well?"

I didn't answer. It seemed like such a stupid question. Was I well? No I wasn't! I was exhausted, traumatized, and in pain.

"You seem to have had quite the night last night to wake me from my slumber," he chuckled. "Though I would say you aren't the first to come at my door like you did."

I looked back down at my naked body and asked, "Where are my clothes?"

"Drying right by the fireplace," he replied calmly. "Don't worry. Your things are in safe hands, dear child of Elimine."

"My name is Renault," I replied coldly. This didn't phase the old man in the slightest.

"We are blessed to have you in our presence, Renault. I am Saint Bell, leader of the church of Saint Elimine." He paused shortly. "Oh! But you must be hungry!" He clapped twice loudly, and from the doorway came a young man around my age, dressed in formal church clothing. His wide, brown eyes were fixed on his master. "Yoder, please fetch this young man some breakfast." The man bowed respectfully and, without a word, ran out of the room. The old man chuckled. "Ah yes, that young boy Yoder...I found him roaming the streets I did. Poor boy was begging for loose change, all covered in dirt and grime. So I took him in, raised him well, and now he's got the makings of a fine church pastor, don't you think?"

"Yeah, sure," I muttered.

This made Bell frown in discontent. "My dear boy, you look upset. Do tell me what is wrong."

"It's that damned Nergal...he warped my friend's dead body with his malicious magic! Worst of all, he used me!"

"A necromancer, you say?" Bell gasped. "The most sinful of all magi! Corrupting the peaceful dead in their slumber and using them as their puppets! Disgraceful, I say!"

"That's one way to put it."

I told Bell everything. I told him about Briar's death, about how I met Nergal, how I murdered a man just to bring back an old friend. All he could do was shake his head.

Just then, Yoder returned with a piping hot bowl of what looked like oats and fresh milk. He set them down by the night table and bowed to Saint Bell. "Bless you, dear Yoder," Bell chuckled, bowing back. "Now, have you said your prayers today?"

"No master. I was about to once I had delivered your meals," Yoder replied in a soft voice.

"Very well. Run along, young man. Do not keep Saint Elimine waiting now."

Yoder nodded and ran back out. He seemed like a nice young lad. Made me feel bad about myself in a way.

"Now then, I shall allow you to eat your breakfast and clothe yourself. Should you need anything, I will be in the next room over." As he exited the room, he told me one last thing: "And I do hope you'll stick around for the mass. It would do you some good to say a prayer or two."

I didn't say a word back. I wanted to deny his request, to leave the church and go after Nergal. I had no interest in religion or praying. My mind was set: I had to face Nergal and teach him a lesson. As I sat in bed pondering my plan, I looked over at the clothes Saint Bell left for me, a white and beige tunic with a magenta undercloth and a light purple cape, then took a bite of the oats before me. They tasted sweet, almost like honey, but were very crunchy at first. The milk made it much soggier and easier to down. When I had finished both, I came to the decision to stay after all and humor Saint Bell.

* * *

As the church bell struck twelve times to signal noontime and I put on the last item of clothing, I walked out into the main hall and sat at the front quietly, trying to avoid attention. The doors behind me swung open and a wave of commoners entered silently, taking their seats without so much a whisper. As the last patron sat, Saint Bell advanced towards the podium and began the mass. Bell raised his hands slowly and fluidly.

"Dear children of Saint Elimine," he boomed, "I bid you all welcome to our church once more. Today, we are joined by yet another lost soul, looking to condone his sins and forever serve Her for all his days and in the great beyond. Blessed am I, as we all should be, to welcome in our newest companion in faith, Renault. Would you care to stand, dear boy?"

I sighed and stood to my feet, bowing to the crowd unenthusiastically. The crowd did not stand, instead replying simply with "Blessed are we to have you, Renault." Good grief, I thought, this is stupid. But I did choose to stay. Can't walk out now. I sat back down and watched as Bell began to talk for two hours. I could have left at any time. I could have simply fallen asleep, or walk out and focus on my mission.

But I didn't.

Instead, I allowed myself to become absorbed in this religion Bell preached. My boredom turned to fascination as I learned about Saint Elimine and the history of Etruria and Elibe. I became increasingly drawn in by this newfound knowledge that, hours ago, I never even cared about.

And just like that, the mass was over. With one last bow, Bell spoke softly to the crowd: "Remember, children of Elimine. She sees and loves all, and blessed are you in Her presence."

As the people left following the mass, Saint Bell called me over to the podium with a beckoning finger. I walked up to him, unaware of what he was going to say. As I came closer, a smile stretched out across his face.

"So?" he spoke. "How do you feel?"

"I feel…" How could I explain how I felt when I had no idea what I was feeling? Was I calmer than last night? Was I pleased to be in a safe haven at last? Was I still angry and upset over what happened to Briar? What could I say?  
"I feel...fine," I said unsurely. "I don't know why, but I feel like all my worries are just...gone. Vanished."

"Not gone, Renault. Not yet," Bell replied heartily. "This feeling you feel is just the beginning of your atonement."

"The beginning?"

"Yes. You have much left to learn and much left to forget. It is the path that was created for you."

Much left to learn. Those words again.

"Should you choose to," Bell sighed, extending an arm around me and leading me down from the stage, "you can stay here and continue to serve the church well. Call it...an escape from your past. A reclusive life atoning and serving Saint Elimine for the rest of your days. A chance to start anew and walk a different path. What say you?"

Without hesitating, I replied simply, "And if I were to walk away?"

Bell frowned. "I'm afraid you would live your life a lonesome vagabond with a chip on your shoulder. A chip that you'll never rid yourself of. Should you stray from the path of right, the path of the sacred man, you will find yourself no better than Nergal."

So I have no choice, I thought. Really, I want to exact my revenge on Nergal. Yet at the same time, Bell had a point. If I were to leave now, if I were to fight Nergal, I wouldn't be the better man even if I defeated him. I would still live a life of sin, a life full of trauma and blood. I could not let that happen. I knew I had to make myself better. I chose the life of a sword-swinging brute and allowed myself to get caught up in Nergal's mess. Now I have to see myself out of it.

"When do we start?" I asked him.

Bell smiled once more and gave me a pat on the back. "There's no time like the present."

And with those words, my lifelong journey as a religious man began.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! I wish I could have added Yoder to the list of characters, but neither of the names he went by (Yoder, Yodel, Jobel, Mitre, etc.) were findable (which is just stupid). But eh, I guess I'll just be waiting for them "I didn't know Renault and Yoder met!" comments I guess. Don't forget to join the Discord with the link on my Twitter bio (guligotgames on Twitter, or use the link above), and be sure to leave a review if you enjoy this series!_


	6. Chapter 6, Part 1

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

Chapter 6, Part 1

_NANI? PART 1?  
Yes this chapter is going to be more than one part. You'll soon see why._

_Anyways following this chapter I may write a one-off fanfic for Fire Emblem Three Houses or maybe Shantae and the Seven Sirens.  
Mayhaps I'll do a poll on Twitter._

_Speaking of which, if you did not see the update on my last fanfic, I've created a new Twitter handle specifically for my writing. If you would like to check it out, it's codygulifanfics on Twitter. Link to the Discord is on there as well!_

_And as always, I hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave a review if you did!_

* * *

Two weeks after I lost to Briar, word had gotten out around the guild about my recent improvement. In celebration we gathered in the mess hall and drank to our hearts content. I swear I have no clue how much I drank that day, but one thing was for sure: I was drunk as all hell and having a whale of a time. As the song and dance poured into the early morning light, I passed out onto the floor, damn near pissing myself in the process. I awoke to one of my colleagues shaking me awake and dousing me with cold water. I spluttered and spat as my vision came to, and then the man pointed at our Captain, who was standing waiting to address us.

"Now if everyone is awake and sober," Cobalt said, clearing his throat, "then perhaps we can get down to business. Grab your gear and meet me outside in five minutes. I'll explain everything on the way."

Get down to business? On the way? What the hell was the Captain saying?

"Briar," I whispered. "What the hell is going on?"

He just shrugged and ran with the others back to the quarters. I stood up, shook myself off and followed suit, both anxious and confused about the situation at hand.

When we rendezvoused outside, we found the Captain standing next to what looked like an inventory carriage. He was dressed in his armor from top to bottom and had his axe in one hand with the reins of the horse pulling the carriage in the other. Everyone stood silent gawking at the Captain, waiting for him to say a word.

"Now listen up lads," he boomed, "I've just received word of a gang of rogue Sacaens, dejects from the Djute tribe, running amok harassing and pillaging the people of Western Bern. Word is that they've been riding into the villages setting fire to homes and slaughtering women and children, and telling by the report I've been sent they plan on doing it again tonight in a village near Laus. Unfortunately for Bern, the majority of their military is settling a civil conflict in Pherae, so they are indisposed for the time being. However, they have called upon us to settle this matter as a sort of...trial for you all."

"And that's where we come in. One of Marquess Hausen's scouts has located their base camp somewhere between the eastern border of Lycia and Bern: an old smuggler's den by the shoreline. Our mission is simple: rid the place of any and all traces of those savages by any means necessary. Burn the bodies if you must. By the crack of dawn, there should be no such trace of these savages. Do I make myself clear?" We all nodded in agreement. "Excellent. Now let's move men! A second wasted is another life taken!" As we all began to march with the caravan, Cobalt pulled me aside. "Listen Renault," he said, "I know you've been improving lately but I want you to stick close to either me or Briar. The last thing I want is to lose someone of your potential." Without another word, I nodded and followed the rest of the caravan to our destination.

By the time we reached the camp outside the target location, my legs felt like they were going to fall off. Who would have known that the ride from Ostia to Laus would be so physically exhausting? Surely Cobalt didn't, as he was still on his own two feet, unfazed and unmoved by the long trek. We all sat to rest and had a quick bite to eat while the Captain and our scout were talking in the background.

"I've heard of these Sacaen tribesman," one of my allies said. "Damn savages, the lot of them."

"Especially the ones we have to fight," said another. "I heard the Djute tribe are the least merciful of the bunch. You could be dead on the ground with an arrow through your skull and they'd carve you up into one of their sick and twisted decorations."

"What are your thoughts on 'em, Briar?" said a third. "Your great grandfather fought Sacaen tribesmen didn't he?"

"Yes he did," Briar boasted. "They were the same then as they are now: blood-thirsty, sick-minded bastards who kill for sport. And when I find one of those savages, I'm gonna send an arrow through him. Right between the eyes." He followed up with a bow-firing gesture to emphasize his point. I didn't say anything. I wasn't concerned with who these criminals or what their motives were. All I cared about was proving to this guild that I wasn't a burden to them, that I could fight as well and as hard as they could. I've worked hard for this moment, and I wasn't about to let it go to waste.

Eventually, the Captain called us over to explain the plan. It was very simple: one group flanks right and takes the back entrance, while the other group flanks left and takes the assault from the front. This was what Briar called a "pincer" attack.

"Think you can manage, Renault?" Briar asked.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" I replied bravely. "It's now or never."

Without a second to lose, Cobalt gave a signal to our scout who fired a shot at one of the guards in front of the base. A direct hit. With the guard's dying gasp, Cobalt called "Charge!" and the two groups collapsed onto the base like a swarm of flies onto a carcass. The savages grabbed whatever weapons they could, be it bow or blade, and met the groups at the apex of the base. Blood was spilled, blades clashed, and the shouting grew louder as the fight pressed on, and I, having little battle experience, was surprised that I was holding up well. I reconvened with Briar in the middle of the base as the both of us fended off even more attackers.

"Oi Renault!" Briar called out behind me. "You aren't looking half bad."

"Just call us the invincible duo, pal!" I replied back, lunging my sword into my opponent.

"Ha! Us, an invincible duo! I like the sound of that!" After we had cleared up most of the savages, Briar pointed to the horizon and shouted, "Captain! Reinforcements!"

"Damn it," Cobalt growled. "How could they know…fight off as many as you can, men! Don't let a single one live! Renault!" He paused. "Stay and tend to our wounded. Hold off the base if you can!"

Following the Captain's orders, I watched as the others charged headfirst into the reinforcements outside for round two of the battle. As they clashed, I stayed behind and looked for anybody from our guild that was injured. With my luck, I found one with a deep gash in his abdomen and tore part of my cloth off to wrap around the wound. At that moment, I looked up to see a lone figure standing in the doorway in front of me, chuckling evilly.

"Well, well…" the stranger taunted as he smelled the air, "what do we have here? Smells like...Lycian pig." He threw down the sword from his hand and reached behind his back, producing two more Shamshirs in both hands. Without hesitating, I primed my blade and took up defense, which only made the stranger laugh. "You think you can take me, Lycian filth? You are asking for a death sentence."

"It won't be my death sentence, that's for sure," I sneered. The man did not answer. He just laughed even more and lunged towards me so fast that I had little time to react. The next thing I knew, I was launched backwards into the wall. The force of impact screwed my back up again. The stranger laughed once again and stood over me taunting as I struggled to get back up.

"You act strong like a bull," he chortled slyly, "but you fight like a fish out of water." As he raised one of the swords, I began thinking about my life up to this moment and how I had failed miserably to avenge my parents. I thought about how mistaken I was joining this guild in the first place. I thought about what Briar had told me, and how I failed to heed his words. My life was flashing before my eyes faster than ever before. I shut my eyes as the sword began its rapid descent down towards my neck. And then…

_CLANK!_

I opened my eyes to find that the stranger's sword was stopped by a large, shiny axe. And then, I looked over to see none other than...Cobalt. My fear turned to relief as I attempted to force myself up.

"So," Cobalt said in a low, threatening tone, "you're the leader of these rebels aren't you? I've heard many whispers about you...Sent of the Djute Tribe."

"You speak like a brave man," Sent replied coldly. "You must be...Captain Cobalt of Lycia."

"That I am."

"Heh...you are strong for Lycian filth."

"And you're hella talkative for a savage."

"Savage...ha! You talk about my kind as if we were pigs!"

"Your kind isn't, but you certainly are. You have a lot to answer for, Sent. Death, destruction, panic...all brought to the innocent people of Laus. You're going to pay for the suffering you've caused with your own blood."

"Oho! If you want my blood so bad," Sent chortled as he pointed his weapons at Cobalt, "why don't you come get it?"

"My pleasure." Cobalt took one step forward and swung hard at the tribesman. Blocked. Sent lunged towards Cobalt with both blades. Missed. Both fighters exchanged strikes more like a dance than an actual fight. Meanwhile, I continued to struggle to get up when I looked over and saw a crossbow lying on the floor with a singular arrow beside it. Trying to act quickly yet silently, I gently siddled over towards the weapon, feeling the agonizing pain run its course through my body with each push. While this was happening, Sent and Cobalt continued exchanging blows and grunts, neither side giving an inch. Cobalt saw me and realized what I was trying to do, so he pushed Sent further away towards the wall. Unfortunately with a swift move, the Djute nomad rotated positions with Cobalt and lunged one blade right into the Captain's stomach. Cobalt howled in pain as he was impaled against the wall, unable to get himself free. Seeing this in shock, I scurried faster and faster towards the crossbow.

"You Lycian filth all fight the same," Sent chuckled, still unaware of what I was doing. "Eager to begin, quick to finish." As the last three words formed from his mouth, he raised his blade slowly and with a swift stroke, decapitated Cobalt.

I watched in horror as his head rolled to the ground and his body grew limp, crying "NOOOO!"

It was there that my position was given away by the Djute tribesman. Sent slinked over towards me with his one sword dripping in blood, an evil grin on his face. I had reached the crossbow and was priming the arrow, but then suddenly he was standing over me, taunting me.

"One sheep for the slaughter," he snickered, "and a pig to go with it." This time, he raised his sword up blade side-down, as if to impale me from above. I wasn't thinking about death at that point. I was thinking about my training. Remember what you learned, I thought. It may be a crossbow this time, but I can't miss this shot. As the blade lunged downwards, I painstakingly forced my arms up with all my might, shut my eyes and pulled the trigger. _THUD_. When I opened my eyes, I looked up and saw Sent clutching his left breast. A direct hit, and a lucky one no doubt. As I shuffled back I watched as Sent stumbled speechlessly back, breathing heavier than a wild boar in the heat, before finally collapsing dead to the ground.

I took a moment to catch my breath before shuffling towards Cobalt's headless corpse. I looked at his severed head, now lying in its own blood, and did the one thing I never thought I would do.

I cried.

How could I not? This man felt like a father to me. He took me in without question and believed in me when no one else would. He taught me everything about fighting, and now he's gone. I could have saved him. I could have died in his place. And that's what made me so upset. Not a moment later, Briar and the others came rushing in. When they saw me in tears, they looked at Cobalt's lifeless body and then his lifeless head. A few resisted the urge to gag, while Briar, unfazed by the sight, knelt down beside me and soothed me. I think I can speak for everyone when I say we were all frightened not because of the gorey sight of a headless Captain, but because we didn't know what we were going to do without Cobalt.

* * *

When the scouts concluded that there were no more enemies coming, we gathered the corpses of the rogue Djutes and our fallen allies.

"Burn the corpses of the savages and their base. Leave no trace behind. Take the corpses from our group and burn them separately," Briar commanded.

As the pyres burned and smoke filled the evening air, Briar and I sat down to talk. I was still miserable from losing the Captain, and I could tell by his face that Briar wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"He meant a lot to you didn't he?" Briar asked.

"Didn't he mean a lot to you?" I replied coldly.

"Of course he did. And there's a good reason for that too."

"What?"

Briar paused and sighed heavily. "He was my godfather."

What kind of crap are you SAYING right now, I thought. "Cobalt was your GODFATHER?"

"I know he didn't look the part but yes, he was. A while back, before you came along, Cobalt took me in and raised me like a son. He was a damn good parent, and a great teacher. But I just can't believe that he died the way he did...at the hands of a savage."  
"Well we won't have to worry about them anymore, right? They're all gone."

"Renault...one thing you should know about rogue clans and fanatics and those sort is that they never fully disappear when you kill them all. There will be those influenced by their ideals and beliefs, and when those people arrive we have to deal with them accordingly."

I said nothing in response.

"Come on Renault. We should head back to base and tell the Marquess the bad news. We might not have given the Cap- er, Cobalt- a proper burial, but at least we can let Marquess Hausen know that Laus is safe for now."

I nodded and rose to my feet, sulking as Briar and I walked with the rest of the guild back to the caravan.

This was easily the worst day of my life.

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

_Yes, I know I'm a piece of crap for splitting this chapter into two parts, but I think it would be better to split this in two parts for the sake of a cliffhanger (or whatever is like a cliffhanger). Part two will be coming soon though!  
And as always don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed and follow me for more fanfics!  
And don't forget to check out my Twitter page (codygulifanfics) for a Discord link if you want to join!_


	7. Chapter 6, Part 2

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

Chapter 6, Part 2

_Part two time? Part two time. In Part 1, Renault and the guild travelled to Laus to take on a group of rogue fighters from the Djute Tribe in Sacae. Although they beat the Sacaen rebels, the guild lost something in return: their dear Captain. Although the last part ended with the guild returning to Ostia, grieving for their lost commander, where we pick up is once again in the present, in which Renault has a tough decision to make in regards to his future with the church of St. Elimine._

_If you like this series, don't forget to leave a review and check me out on Twitter (codygulifanfics on Twitter, Discord link on there as well). Without further ado, let us begin Part 2!_

* * *

Twenty-nine years.

That's how long it has been since Briar was killed in combat.

That's how long it's been since I met Nergal and got myself mixed up in his affairs.

That's how long it's been since I stumbled upon the Church and was taken in.

Twenty-nine long, damning, dragging years.

And I haven't changed in the slightest, physically or mentally. Perhaps Nergal's dark magic had stunted my growth. Perhaps it has made me, dare I say, immortal (what a foolish concept). Regardless, I still have a burning hatred for that man, a flame that continues to burn to this day. For almost thirty years all I could think about was watching that dastard suffer, to watch him take his last agonizing breath in pain and suffering. And yet I could not leave the confines of this church. I could not abandon the life and shelter given upon me by Saint Elimine herself.

That all changed following Saint Bell's death almost one and a half decades prior.

I could still remember sitting by his deathbed alongside Yoder, clutching his hand softly and muttering a prayer under my breath. And in that final moment, all Bell could do was chuckle and say "You've grown well, Renault…" before taking his last breath and passing on into the great beyond. I felt nothing in that moment. No sorrow, no pain, no anguish, nothing. Perhaps I had seen enough death to make me numb to the concept, or perhaps this was yet another side effect of Nergal's magic. It was the first time I had witnessed a proper burial since the death of my parents as a child. No one spoke a word, not even Yoder, as Bell's casket was laid firmly to rest in a special stone tomb in the cemetery. Outside the front of the church a large statue was erected of him, the epitaph reading "Saint Emetrius Ludveck Bell, Bishop of the Saint Elimine church, wise scholar, caring father. Born Year 891, Died Year 964. May he be forever blessed by Saint Elimine." Everytime I looked outside the church, I could see his statue looming over me, watching and protecting the church. I didn't know whether I should feel safe or weirded out.

Yes, these twenty-nine years have breezed by like a gale of wind in a harsh summer storm. The lives of the common folk came and went, but my life stayed the same day in and day out: wake up, morning prayer, breakfast, church service, afternoon prayer, afternoon service, dinner, evening prayer, bedtime. A continuous, flawless, boring cycle. Not exactly the life I was used to in the mercenary guild, but it was life nonetheless. I could have died at any point before now, but I'm glad I haven't.

Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to get back at Nergal for what he had done…

A knock came at my door, and a voice called from behind, "Renault? Are you in there lad?"

"Yes," I replied. "It's open."

The doorknob clicked as it turned and the door swung slowly open to reveal Yoder, much older than when we first met. He was dressed in his usual blue-drowned bishop attire, complete with the flowing silk robes and oversized headcap. His hands and face were wrinkled and creased like unfolded laundry, and he had an unfixable squint in his eyes. Using his cane he walked to my bedside and took a seat, grunting as he slowly descended onto the mattress.

"Are you well?" Yoder asked innocently. "You haven't been eating or sleeping right these past few nights."

"Fine," I muttered, not looking to make much conversation. "I'm fine."

Yoder frowned. "You're thinking of Nergal, aren't you?"

"How did you-"

"Just a hunch."

"...Yes. I am thinking about that wretch. I've been thinking about that fool for almost three decades now. I can't sleep without seeing that ugly face of his, hearing that demonic laugh of his, every living second I am reminded of him, haunted by him…"

"And you wish revenge on him, do you?"

"If not revenge on him, peace for me. I will not rest easily until I hold his head on a silver platter."

"Renault! Mind your tongue! Saying such things will anger Saint Elimine!"

I sighed in defeat. "You're right. Forgive me. However, I must defeat him. I cannot allow this...this black-hearted man use and abuse others like he had with me and my friend. He _must_ be stopped, Yoder."

"I understand your reasoning, and I agree with you wholeheartedly. However, must you really leave the safety of the church just to seek out bloodshed?"

"So you're saying I should sit here and let Nergal manipulate people to his whim?"

"No, I'm not. However, violence and sin does not condone violence and sin. If I were you, I would consult the ever-knowing knowledge of Saint Elimine. She will guide you well."

"As much as I respect your decision to consult Her Holiness Elimine, I have already decided my course of action."

"Renault…"

"I'm sorry Yoder, but my mind is made. Even if it upsets Saint Elimine, even if I must confide myself to a life of regret, even if it makes me no better than him, I _must_ find that man and make him pay."

"You understand that if you kill him out of spite and revenge, you will become no better than him?"

"I'm willing to take that risk. If not for me, then for Briar."

Yoder shook his head and sighed sadly. "Is there no way I can persuade you to change your mind? Even for a second?"

"None."

"I...very well then." Yoder stood up from the bed and slowly made his way towards the door. "Grab a satchel and follow me."

Yoder and I walked into Saint Bell's old bedroom, which was now empty aside from a small wooden coffer to which Yoder unlocked with a wrangled bronze key. From the chest he pulled out a large sack of coins, a few medicinal herbs, some cloth, a map, a compass, and what looked like a Divine tome. "Bell had a feeling you would leave the church at some point to search for Nergal," he explained. "He told me to give you these when the time came." He handed me the items quickly and proceeded to shut the chest again. "It really is a shame that you have to leave the church so soon, Renault. But of course, there really isn't anything an old man like me can do to stop you."

"I know. I'm sorry that I must leave you here alone and by yourself."  
"Ohohoho no, Renault. I will never be alone. Not as long as I have the churchgoers, and Saint Elimine of course." He snapped his fingers suddenly as if something came over his mind. "That reminds me. Before you leave, we must pray to Saint Elimine for a safe journey and good luck." Yoder reached into his robes and pulled out a small stone depiction of Saint Elimine and then asked me to kneel with him. As we knelt, hands together in prayer, Yoder began speaking: "Saint Elimine, to whom we are bonded, to whom who shepard us from sin, to whom we pray by dawn and by dusk, to whom we drink and sing and cry to, to whom we are blessed to...O Saint Elimine, grant thy child Renault safe passage to his destination, and bless and protect him upon your virgin soul from the agents of death and sin."

"O Saint Elimine, grant me thy protection," I replied.

"Saint Elimine, for whose fruit we pray for and feast upon, for whom giveth us light and shelter from the wicked grasp of darkness, see that your child Renault shall be granted safety and hope."

"O Saint Elimine, grant me thy protection," I repeated.

"For only you, blessed Saint Elimine, who hath watched over and nursed your children of Elibe, who hath mothered the sick and elderly, who hath given us the gift of life and faith, who hath brought peace in times of chaos, who hath spread her arms of renewal to ward off the winds of death, shall watch over this dear child of yours and lead him to peace and prosperity in his time of despair and shrouded courage."

"O Saint Elimine, grant me thy protection."

"Amen."

"Amen."

The both of us slowly rose as Yoder handed me the small statue he had taken out, explaining "Take this icon of Saint Elimine with you on your journey. You may find a great use for it, you might not. Either way, take it as a token from the church."

"Thank you, Yoder," I replied with a forced grin and proceeded to walk out.

"Saint Elimine bless you, Renault! Saint Elimine bless you!" Yoder called out as I shut the church door.

With satchel in one hand and statue in the other, I took my first few steps away from the church for the first time in what seemed like ages. I gulped slightly as I put one foot in front of the other. I had been shut in the church ever since I stumbled upon it, never traveling with the pilgrimages and burying my nose in a wide array of books. And now, almost three decades later, I was far from the church. As I turned around I could see it still in the distance, much smaller than before and yet still standing tall. All the more I felt like I could feel Yoder and Bell's eyes watching me depart, half-smiles on their faces as they waved farewell. I turned my gaze back to what lied ahead and continued to walk.

Nergal, I thought. After all these years, I'm finally going to make you pay for the pain you have caused me. Be ready.

* * *

_Chapter 6 is finally in the books! Not only will this most likely be the ONLY two-parter in the series, it will be the last chapter to feature a flashback from Renault's past as a mercenary (which I understand didn't get fleshed out a lot but hey. I'm not perfect, and neither is anyone). Either way I hope you are enjoying the series so far! Don't forget to follow me on Twitter (codygulifanfics) and check it for the link to the Discord! And as always, don't forget to leave a review if you like the series so far!_


	8. Chapter 7

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

Chapter 7

_After yet another short hiatus thanks to work (#BlameWalmart), I'm ready to get back into writing form! I've been thinking of doing another mini-series recently, but I'm not sure what to make it about. Some ideas I had were:_

_-Another FE mini-series featuring Dheginsea's backstory_

_-A completely original story that I can post on Archive of Our Own or_

_-An FE mini-series featuring Sephiran in between the events of Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn_

_If you want to see any of these let me know!_

_Also before I start this chapter I want to add something on. I really hate to use this platform for political rants, but with the recent events surrounding the Black Lives Matter protests and President Trump's ongoing crap, I want to make something very clear:_

_**BLACK LIVES MATTER.**_

_**TRANSGENDER WOMEN ARE WOMEN TOO.**_

_**TRANSGENDER MEN ARE MEN TOO.**_

_**SEXUAL HARASSMENT/ABUSE IS NOT A FUCKING JOKE.**_

_You are free to disagree with me on any of these statements if you so wish. I won't block you or delete your message if you do, but while I will be open to listen, don't expect me to agree with your opinions._

_And with that, I hope you enjoy the chapter and make sure you check me out on Twitter (codygulifanfics)!_

* * *

Almost two weeks had gone by since I departed from Saint Elimine's Church, but I only managed to make it to Ostia in that time. My journey was proving to be slow and purposeless at this point, and every ounce of me wanted to turn back.

Then I remembered his face.

Nergal's face stuck with me everywhere I went. His laugh echoed in my every dream, my every nightmare conducted by his dark whim. His crooked smile was plastered into my consciousness. I couldn't escape him, despite being miles and miles away from him. Therefore, I had decided to press on.

As I entered the vast city of Ostia, the sound of the common rabble grew louder. The sounds of idle chatter, playful children shrieking and laughing, merchants calling "Fresh stock of herbs! Come see my fresh stock of herbs!" and "Fresh meats for sale! Ground beef from the richest of cattle in all Elibe!", and the roaring laughter from inside the pub created an ambient symphony that seemed to have lifted my spirits. As I walked further into the city towards the inn, I found these civilians, both young and old, bowing their heads to me in respect and offering me donations, to which I kindly turned down. This was Heaven in disguise. That is, until I walked into the inn and found it swimming in drunks, one of which threw a mug towards me and another drooling a large puddle on the floor. Before I could reach the counter where the innkeeper stood, I was approached by a third drunk, who had clearly taken a disliking to me.

"Oi!" the man cried, hiccuping loudly as he stumbled over to me. "Fancy man! Yeah, I'm talking to you!"

"Can I help you, good sir?" I asked innocently.

"Funny guy, aren't we? Are you-" A hiccup. "Are you looking for a fight, toughie?"

"I beg your pardon, but have you had too much to drink sir?"

Apparently this had tipped the man off, as he lunged forward and grabbed me by the collar of my robes, pulling my face to his. His breath smelt rancid, almost like a corpse bathed entirely in swamp water and mud.

"You better shut your mouth, damn it! Else I'll wallop you real good and-" another hiccup. "Turn that mug of yours bad."

"Be off!" I cried out, pushing him back with my staff. He fell to the ground hard but quickly got up and pulled a knife from under his belt. As he charged ready to stab me, a cloaked figure, who had seen the turmoil unfold, lunged out of his chair and grabbed the man's arm right as he began to thrust the knife downward. The man in the cloak squeezed the drunk's wrist, to which the latter howled in pain and dropped the knife before he was tossed to the ground once more. Instead of trying to fight again, the man stumbled and ran right out of the inn without looking out. I turned and faced the cloaked figure, who was now standing over me menacingly. After a long pause, he lifted his hood to reveal his face. His long, jade blue hair was messy from the hood and the scars on his face stood out more than anything else about him.

"Next time," he said as he headed for the door, "you might be better off walking away."

What cheek, I thought. And yet I was curious to know who this man was. So I did what I thought was the only logical thing to do, and followed him out.

"You don't seem to be from here, traveller," the man spoke. "You'd be surprised to know that most Ostians aren't that rash...or drunk for that matter."

"A wonderful group of people, I'm sure," I muttered in return. "I must thank you for saving me from that man-"

The man stopped suddenly and turned around. "I'm sorry, but do you have any business with me?"

"Well, yes. Of course. I would like to know your name, for a start."

"Is that all?"

"Well no…"

Impatiently, the man turned back around and kept walking. I was left baffled at his behavior; I've never met such a cheeky and rude man in my life. I continued to walk after him though, unsatisfied with being ignored. He probably knew that I was following him, because as we approached Castle Ostia, he motioned the guards at the front out of the way to let both of us pass. Yes, both. Me and him. As I entered Castle Ostia, I was taken aback by the bright glow of the chandeliers on the ceiling, the regalia adorning the walls in a neat fashion, and the reflection of light bouncing off the marble tile.

"Impressed?" the man in the cloak said, gesturing at the room we stood in.

"I've seen better at House Caelin," I muttered back. That was a complete lie. Sure Caelin was beautiful but it looked _nothing _like this, nowhere even close. This wasn't just a castle. This was an architectural masterpiece, an absolute pinnacle of majesty. And yet, I felt like I didn't belong. Me, a priest of the Saint Elimine Church, standing- no, basking- in the regal aura of House Ostia, it felt too good to be true. But here I was.

Soon I was whisked into the dining hall, which was almost as big as the main hall and then some. A large, singular chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, bathing the room in a radiant glow of light. I sat towards the nearest end of the table while my host sat in the large chair at my end. Suddenly a group of noblemen, guards, and chefs flooded the room like an ambush taking place in a fort. The rest sat down aside from the chefs, who laid out various dishes across the middle of the long table. There were dishes that I have never even seen before in my time with both the mercenary guild and the church. Roasted pig, fresh lamb meat over lettuce, something that looked like a gigantic salad with eggs, these were just a few of the dishes laid out before me. As we all filled our plates with delectable food, my host, the man who led me here, spoke.

"I had a feeling you would arrive sooner or later, Renault," he chuckled.

"How do you know my name?" I asked in shock. "There's no way that you-"

"I got a message from your friend, the Bishop Yoder, that you were coming."

Yoder, I thought. Of course. Who else but him?

"I understand that you're looking for a sorcerer by the name of Nergal, yes?"

"Did Yoder tell you that too?"

The man laughed, but did not answer me. "I do agree with your friend; perhaps this is not the best path for you to take. The way he described this...Nergal character, he-"

Fuming, I stood up from my chair, face beet red and ready to snap back at him. I held back though when everyone stopped eating and turned their judging eyes to face me. The man just sat there, continuing to eat. "Beg pardon," he said, swallowing a bite of ham, "I must have touched upon a very sensitive topic." I didn't say anything and sat back down. The others and I resumed eating like nothing ever happened.

"I don't know where he is now, but I swore that I would find him and make him pay for what he did," I said.

"So it seems, but while you say you seek revenge against this sorcerer, you have yet to tell the other half of the story."

I sighed and told the man everything, from the moment I lost Briar to the moment I met Nergal to the point where I left him and sought sanctuary in the church. Every bitter detail grew even more bitter as I told the story, and after I had finished, the man nodded and stroked his beard for a moment before replying.

"I'm afraid," he said, "that I cannot help you there. And neither can Ostia, for that matter."

"I'm not looking for help from you or Ostia," I said. "Just give me a name of someone who can."

There was a long pause as he continued to chew the food in his mouth. As he swallowed, he leaned forward and said "Eburacum. The Western Isles. Go there, find a young man named Garrett. He may lead you to somebody with the knowledge you seek. Be warned though; don't put too much trust in him. He may be a bandit with a pure heart, but he's nothing more than a bandit."

"You want me to take directions from a bandit?" I hissed back quietly.

"Yes, yes, I understand you dislike their kind because of your friend's death. But trust me on this one."

"I...very well. I'll set out tomorrow then. Excuse me." I rose from my seat slowly and pushed the chair back under the table.

"Wait." The man took out a small piece of parchment and handed it to me. "Show this to the innkeeper. He'll let you stay the night for free." I could only nod and bow respectively as I began to walk out. "And to answer your earlier question," he added as we both stopped to turn and face each other. "My name is Uther. Marquess Uther of Ostia."

I nodded and bowed once more. "Saint Elimine bless you, Marquess Uther, and thank you for the meal." Nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be said.

My mind was focused strictly on the Western Isles now, and nothing else.

* * *

_Whew, am I on a roll now or what?! Thanks for reading Chapter 7 and as always, don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed and follow me on Twitter (codygulifanfics)!_


	9. Chapter 8

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

Chapter 8

_As I mentioned in my previous fanfic, _"Hilda's Confession"_, I may not be posting new chapters or new fanfics for a bit as I am now in the planning phase of my first book (to which I gave the working title of _Project Five_). However, I will be updating the status of the project on my Twitter handle (codygulifanfics). Considering I have nothing more to say, here's chapter 8!_

* * *

Eburacum.

The name resonated through my mind over and over, like a song playing repeatedly in my head. At the same time, I began having my doubts over what Uther told me. How could I trust this...stranger that he mentioned, this...Garrett person? How could he expect me to trust a bandit? Was this a trap? Somehow I had a bad feeling about all of this…

"Oi, priest," a voice called from in front of me. "Western Isles, dead ahead." Before I had departed for Eburacum, I had used some of the money that Bell had gifted me on a guide to the Western Isles. He said he used to be a former miner from the parts himself, as the soot marks and various scars on his body proved true. Although not the brightest of any guide, he was full of muscle and stout, perfect should I run into any trouble. His clothing was somewhat ragged for a man of his profession but fit him well. I looked up to see that we were approaching a small mining town, with various smaller islands emerging from the water close by. The caravan soon came to a halt just on the outskirts of the town.

"This is as far as I'll go, priest," said the guide. "Mount Eburacum is about a half-day's walk from here, so you might as well rest up for now."

"You mean to tell me we're not there yet?" I asked puzzled.

"Close. This is Armagh."

"You promised me that you'd guide me to-"

"I promised you I'd get you to the Western Isles, and that's that. 10 gold pieces."

I huffed as I handed over ten gold coins to the guide, who took them without another word spoken. As the both of us parted ways, I muttered under my breath impatiently and entered the small town.

The sights I saw there were dreadful. Most of the houses were rundown, some hardly even standing on their own legs. The men were covered from head to toe with coal dust and dirt, same as the children. Both the women and children were skin and bones, tanned by the harsh sun of the archipelago. Some of the children were just as dirty as the adult men, indicating that they too worked in the mines, whereas others had little to no clothing. Hardly any crop grew around town, perhaps because of the humid climate. As I advanced towards the village center, crowds of people began following me suspiciously, eyeing my clothing and sizing me up. As I stopped to look at them, a lone man as skinny and frail as the others approached me.

"Do you come to set us free, priest?" the man wheezed.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked.

"We are a community of miners, both man and child. We work many hours a day mining ore for our revered lord and master, and in return he feeds us and gives us shelter. As of late we have turned up less and less mineral, and thus he feeds us less and less. Most of us have not had food for days now, and yet he works us to the brink. Spare us some bread mister. We beg of you."

I stood dumbfounded and shocked at this new revelation that was thrust upon me. Who in their right mind would treat these poor citizens like slaves, scapegoats no less? This was inhumane, perhaps the work of bandits. And yet Marquess Uther wanted me to trust one of them in order to gain passage to Valor. This was absurd, and it was high time I did something.

"I have no food on me sadly," I replied to the man, "however I will see what can be done about your master."

"You mustn't!" the man cried out, grasping at my robes with two boney hands. "You mustn't defy our master. He has power here in Armagh, in the Western Isles. Should you so much as lay a finger on him…" The man paused to catch his breath, but by the time he had prepared to say more, another man dressed in finer clothing approached the group.

"What is going on here?" the other man said. "Well? Speak, mongrel!"

"Y-Your Graciousness…" the ragged man spluttered, "please...our people are starving. Our thirst for fresh food has reached its peak. All we ask is for some bread, or some other sustenance to nourish our stomachs."

"If it's food you want, then perhaps you would do well to turn up your keep in the mines."

"But the mines, sir...the mines turn up less and less ore-"

"Then you must continue to mine deeper! Mine faster! Mine more!"

"B-But Master…"

"Enough! On your feet, mongrel, and back into the mines with you. All of you!"

Despite his best efforts, the ragged man could not stand straight. As soon as he had gotten to his feet, he fell back down onto his knees. Furious by this, the fine gentleman, in an act of pure insolence, produced a leather whip and cracked it against the man's back. The ragged man howled in pain with each lash until suddenly, his whole body collapsed to the earth. With a raspy groan, the ragged man ceased to live. This only caused the fine gentleman to grow angrier still.

"Whelp!" he screamed. "Get up!" He continued to crack at the man's corpse while the others watched in horror. Finally, something inside me had snapped, and I ran to the dead man's side.

"Stop this!" I cried, kneeling by the corpse on the ground. "Stop this at once you heathen! Don't you see he's dead?!"

"Out of my way, priest! I have no qualm with you," the man answered. As he prepared another lash, I raised my staff in defense, pointing the orb on top towards him. "You wouldn't dare harm me."

"I would. If not for Saint Elimine, then for these poor villagers that you've exploited."

"Exploited? I find your choice of words a tad excessive, priest. So be it."

The man once more raised the whip, this time to strike me. I quickly muttered some ancient words, and from my staff a strong aura shone. The man shouted in confusion and stumbled backwards, growing even more furious. When the light faded, he growled and threw down his whip, favoring to use the axe attached to his belt instead. With an intimidating look, he said, "You'll pay for that, priest. You and these mongrels!" and charged headfirst towards me. I managed to parry his swings with ease, and with a gap in one of his attacks I struck him in the back of his legs first, then his back. He groaned in pain and fell to the ground, writhing with agony on his back. I pinned him to the ground with my staff pointed at his neck.

"I would not hesitate to kill you," I spoke coldly, "but that would upset my goddess. So I shall not. However…" A pause. "You will feed these villagers and treat them better, or you will suffer the wrath of Saint Elimine." I removed my staff from his chest.

"Who…" the man gasped, "who are you…?"

"Bishop Renault, of the Saint Elimine Church."

"Strong...you're not...human…"

These words gave me chills. Not human. It reminded me of Briar, of Nergal...it reminded me of what I was, and what I had become. It reminded me of what Nergal did to me, to Briar's corpse. Not human. Not human…

"Perhaps not," I replied without hesitation. "I don't know what I am anymore. However I do know that you are nothing but a manipulative, greedy oaf who has learned not to carelessly throw away human life. Pray that you don't forget that lesson." Suddenly, a rumble came over the horizon. Within moments the skies became cloudy, and then rain began to fall softly. And then heavily. I quickly took shelter underneath one of the buildings and watched as the other townsfolk and the ground were soaked by the rain. The downpour, while strong, only lasted a few minutes, but the effects were instant. The villagers, once dirty and full of grime, were washed clean. The ground became fertile and soft. Crop began to spring from the ground rapidly. The townsfolk watched on with wonder as food and life appeared before their very eyes. The gentleman, now having recovered from his injuries, stood up, grabbed his whip, and retreated.

"Saint Elimine has blessed us!" cried one villager.

"We are saved!" cried another.

"Food for all of us!" sang the children.

Then all of a sudden, the man who was struck dead rose to his feet completely fine. He looked at his hands, then his feet, and finally at me. He once again threw his arms around me and grasped my robes tightly.

"Bless you, dear boy," he sobbed. "Bless you and Saint Elimine too!"

* * *

That night, a feast was held in my honor. The women sang and danced, the men roared with laughter and drowned in fine wine, and the children laughed and screamed and played happily. It had felt like forever since I had seen such a celebration like this, and yet I was not interested in the festivities. I began to quietly slip away from the party when the ragged man from earlier stopped me and asked, "Where are you going, dear boy?" With this question, the roaring noise turned to silence and all eyes shifted upon me.

"I do apologize," I said calmly. "But I must rest. I leave at first light tomorrow."

"Leave? You're leaving us so soon?"

"I must. I have my own mission to worry about."

" You have brought our little village life again, set us free from the clutches of that tyrant, and yet you must leave us. Now, as my people across the Western Isles suffer the same fate as we did..."

"What if our master comes for us again? Who shall protect us?" one of the women asked.

"He won't," I replied courageously. "You have the blessing of Saint Elimine on your side. All you must do is pray to her and he will not lay a finger on you. And if he should, he will feel the judgement of Saint Elimine."

"Will you come back, mister? To visit?" a child asked innocently.

I paused to consider these words carefully. "I am unsure. Perhaps not. Should I not return, then do not feel sorrow. You are all safe now, as I have ordained it. Tomorrow, I shall set out for Mount Eburacum."

"Very well," the ragged man replied. "I assure you that you know the way? If not, my people will guide you. It is the only way we can repay you for your kindness."

"Thank you. I appreciate the help. Good night." I gave the villagers one last wave before heading to bed. As I laid in bed I began to think back on the day's events. I began wondering if I should make the effort to quell the suffering of the miners in the Western Isles, or if I should put my own agenda first. These poor people have suffered as much pain as I have, if not more. To ignore them would make me no better than those who harm them, who use them. I must decide tomorrow, I thought. For now, I must rest. There is much to be done in the morning.

* * *

_Probably could have used a better ending but because my brain is mush I couldn't come up with anything better. Remember to check me out on Twitter (codygulifanfics) for updates on my life situation and book progress! Also don't forget to leave a review if you want to see more!_


	10. Chapter 9

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

Chapter 9

_HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE I WROTE ANYTHING JESUS  
Okay, let me recap some of the things that have happened since I last posted a chapter/fanfiction:  
-I quit my job at Walmart after 11 months of working there  
-I started a new job on the 21st of September (insert funny meme here)  
-Financial troubles have stabilized somewhat_

_-I began writing on the blog site Medium and then decided to back out like a coward since my first article didn't do so well (hardly anyone saw it)._

_-Mental troubles have returned because of some drama with a now former friend of mine_

_And now that most of my afternoons are going to be spent away at work from 3:30-11:30PM my time, I'll only be able to write in the short window of time that I have in the morning. I do not want this series to die, so I'm gonna hack away at it as much as I can with the time available to me in the coming days, weeks, and months._

_If you like the series so far, consider following and reviewing, and don't forget to add me on Twitter (codyguliwriting). Enjoy Chapter 9!_

* * *

There, in the distance in front of me, was Mount Eburacum, the largest mining operation in all of the Western Isles. From the view across the valley, I could see a large castle standing high and mighty above a cluster of villages and stone walls like a boy towering over a colony of ants. I could smell the smoke of the smelters and the unpleasant smell of earthen solder cast into the air before me, and in haste I quickly wafted the smell away from my nostrils. It reeked of sulfur and iron.

As I descended down onto the mining village, I was stopped by two common foot-soldiers, both of whom pointed their lances at me as if I posed a threat to them. I slowly raised my hands to assure them I meant no harm, but they didn't move an inch. It was only when I heard a sharp whistle did they turn around. Behind them was a third soldier dressed in bulkier armor and without a helmet to hide the gruff, dirty and bald mug staring at me. I lowered my hands as slowly as I had raised them and stood completely still as he approached me. He sized me up top to bottom, despite the fact I had shown him and his friends that I wasn't hostile. Typical soldier types, I thought. At last, the man stepped back and turned to his colleagues.

"He's perfectly harmless," he said. "Just another priest." He turned his attention back to me. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I am Renault from the church of Saint Elimine. I've come here seeking someone in Eburacum-"

"No one enters the village without permission from Nord," the man boomed.

"Then bring me to him so I may speak to him," I replied impatiently.

"No one sees Nord without requesting an audience. Leave now or-"

"What's all the commotion out here you fools?!" called a raspy voice from behind the soldiers. It came from a mysterious looking fellow draped in a purple cloak, perhaps a shaman. His crooked hands fumbled and fussed with each other as he drew closer to the group. "Who is this man?" he snarled.  
"Renault, sir," I responded calmly. "I'm a priest travelling to-"

"A priest, you say?" the shaman interrupted. "Ah...welcome, welcome! Do pardon my guards and their...incompetence. Come with me. You're more than welcome." I was at the gates of this shaman's castle for no more than a few minutes and I was already being shuffled inside. What a strange fellow, I thought, but I might as well play along.

The inside of the castle was much less appealing than that of the one in Ostia. Instead of lush carpets and shining floors of marble and pillars of the strongest cobblestone, there were cracked walls, moss hanging from the ceiling, and a dank, unsatisfying odor that smelled like a mixture of rotting flesh and human waste. For a second I was afraid that I was going to be sick, but the second that I was ushered into the throne room (or whatever was left of it), my nose was filled with a delectable scent that smelled like ambrosia and fine herbs. The shaman explained that it was an incense used to ward off the maggots and rodents that made their homes inside the walls of this castle. The shaman took a seat on the crooked throne at the back of the room, still fumbling his hands together as if he were concocting an evil plan. "Now then," he chuckled. "Do tell us what brings you here."

"Good sir," I answered politely, "I only wish to seek passage into the village under Mount Eburacum."

"So I hear, so I hear...everybody wants passage through the mining village. Soldiers, mercenaries, priests...but I tell them all the same thing."

"And that is?"

"Never."

"Now listen here, good man-" Before I could utter another word, I was grabbed from behind by two of the guards like the ones outside. The next thing I knew, my arms were forced behind me and my feet were shackled together. The shaman stood up and stared at me menacingly. A coy smile furled across his cheeks as he ordered the guardsmen to throw me downstairs in the dungeons. As I was being escorted I heard the shaman call out, "You think you're the first of your kind to step into Nord's castle, priest of Saint Elimine? I know what you really seek, and you will never step foot in that mining village, or anywhere else, for the rest of your days." The next thing I knew, I felt a sharp pain in my head and everything faded to black.

* * *

When I woke up, night had fallen and the cell had gotten colder. I tried everything to keep warm, but the breeze of night made me shiver even more. I looked around for any possible means of escape, but unfortunately this castle's cells lacked secret exits of any kind. Worse still, it seemed that the shaman, whom I deduced was Nord, had placed one of the more attentive guards on duty. He didn't blink or yawn at all. He was as still and as solid as a rock. There was no use in trying to snag the cell key from him either, for he didn't carry it nor did he have it on him. All seemed to be hopeless, so I decided the best course of action would be to just go back to resting for the night.

About a few minutes later, however, I heard a muffled grunt and the clatter of armor resting slowly to the ground. I sat up and rubbed my eyes to find the guard lying dead on the ground with three hooded figures, two tall ones and a much shorter one, standing over the corpse. I opened my mouth to speak, but one of the figures shushed me.  
"We're breakin' ya out, priest," said the tallest figure in a cockney accent, "so keep ya mouth shut an' we might escape." He gave a nudge to the smallest figure, signaling it to pick the lock on the cell door. With a few clicks and clanks, the door slowly swung open, and the figures gestured at me to follow them.  
"Come on," the tallest one whispered. Soon the four of us were scurrying like mice across the corridor, being extra cautious not to alert the other guards. The halls felt longer than they looked, but eventually we had managed to sneak out of the castle and towards the mining village. I could hear the shouting of the castle's guards behind me as we moved further through the shadow of the night. Eventually, we came to the gate of the village and the tallest of the three gave it a special knock: one knock, followed by two quickfire knocks, and then one more. The entrance slowly swung open to reveal another figure, this time clad in armor.

"Who's dis git?" he snarled suspiciously.

"Relax chum," replied the tall one. "Dis one's just a priest. Found 'im locked up in Nord's castle."

There was a pause and a sigh as the gatekeeper pushed the gate open wider. "Stick to the shadows," he whispered. "The guards 'ave gotten more an' more clever lately." The four of us had soon made it into the village and began scuttling against the wall, the shadows cloaking us from the sight of the village guards. Carefully and skillfully, we weaved around guard after guard until we came to a trapdoor behind one of the buildings. The shortest of the group carefully opened it, revealing a dim light below. They motioned me to enter, and slowly but surely I made my way down the cobblestone steps. There was another door ahead, this one more worn down. I watched as the tallest figure gave the door the same knock as with the gate. This time a slot on the door opened and a strange pair of eyes came into view.

"Password?" came a lowly voice from the other side.

"Vengeance," the taller man whispered. After a few seconds, the slot closed and the door opened slowly, revealing what looked like an abandoned tavern. Cobwebs and moss were strewn along the walls, which were badly cracked. The wooden counter towards the far left of the room was in a bad shape, but still stood firmly. The light that I recognized outside came from a fireplace on the other side of the room. The three strangers who helped me removed their hoods, revealing their faces. The taller one was balding with a scar directly above his left brow. His nose stuck out more than anything, and his chin flattened out at the bottom. His skin, in the light of the fireplace, was well-tanned and hairy, especially around the arms.

The second tallest had much darker skin and a ponytail sticking out from the back of his head. There were two green lines under both of his eyes, possibly war paint. He was much leaner than his taller counterpart, and his hands were almost bigger in size.

And the third one surprised me the most. It was a little red-headed girl with freckles adorning her face, which was very dirty. Her cheeks were puffed up and her hair was an absolute mess. I stared at her in shock for a moment before turning to the tallest one and saying, "You let a child go on a dangerous mission like that?"

"That child," the tallest one replied, "is me daughter, Kaila. Of course I let 'er come along." He continued before I had a chance to open my mouth. "I don' believe we introduced ourselves. Name's Reiner. Dat lad, the silent one wit the ponytail, is Jakari. Comes from Sacae, so he says. And what's yer name, priest?"

"Renault," I replied.

"Well Renault, ya caused quite a stir ta get yerself thrown in Nord's dungeon like dat."

"I didn't intend to be a prisoner."  
"I know ya didn't. I'm jus' yankin' yer chain."

"What is this place though? Who are all these people?"  
Jakari, having stayed silent before, spoke up. "This is the Golden Sands Tavern, or as we like to call it our meeting room."

"The guards don' know dat we're holed up in 'ere at night," Kaila added.

"Your...meeting room?" I asked, completely puzzled.  
"Look around ya, mate," Reiner said, clasping a hand on my shoulder. "Ya see all these faces? There are the faces o' people pushed to there limit. Day after day, we toil away in dem mines, workin' our asses to da bone, all fo' what? A few crumbs, a slap on da back, an' rags fo' clothes. This is life in the Western Isles, mate. Ya shut yer mouth and dig, and hopefully ya live ta see another day."

Shut up and dig if you want to live, I thought. Why does that sound all too familiar?

"And those who disobey, what happens to them?" I asked out of curiosity. After a short pause, Reiner took his hand, stuck out his thumb, and slowly slid it across his throat like it was a knife.

"Ya lose yer 'ead," he whispered ominously. That was all I needed to hear. Before I could say anything else though, he added, "Alright priest, time fo' you ta get sum shuteye. Best if ya stay here with her tonight." He pointed to a cloaked figure in the corner of the room. "She owns the place. Jus' do what she says an' stay outta the guards sight when ya leave. Good night lad."

I didn't even get a chance to tell him what I was doing here, that I was trying to find Garret. But the woman that Reiner pointed to seemed to know what I was looking for. She beckoned me to come closer, and, rather reluctant, I slowly shuffled over to her. She leaned into my ear and whispered only one word.

"Arcadia."

* * *

_I can definitely tell that it's been forever since I last wrote something like this. Again, I apologize for the massive wait, but I promise this series is NOT dead! If you enjoyed, as always leave a review and be sure to follow me on Twitter (codyguliwriting)!_


	11. Chapter 10

**The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor**

Chapter 10

_After a considerable break, not only is this series finally at the ten chapter mark but I am now committing myself to writing once more (at least until December 26th when I might go back to procrastinating)! It's been a blast writing this series so far (even though I went into a hiatus for a part of it lol) and I can't wait to write the next part of it._

_Anyways, I've compiled my most important links into one website address using Linktree! Link is in my bio!_

_If you've enjoyed this series so far, don't forget to leave a review and follow me on Twitter! The support would be much appreciated!  
Hope you enjoy chapter 10!_

* * *

As the morning sun broke over the horizon, I rose from my bedroll and began gathering my things. The name "Arcadia" kept resonating in my head as I hastily packed my things into my rucksack. Just then, I was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

"Leavin' already?" Reiner said in an uncharacteristically soft voice.  
"Sorry, but I have a mission as I'm sure you remember," I replied. Perhaps that sounded too harsh. As the words escaped my mouth I turned my head back to my preparations.

"Fair enough. If ya need anythin', gimme a shout."

As Reiner started to walk away, I whipped my head around and said, "Reiner...what do you know of Arcadia?" He stopped in his tracks and, without turning around, sighed and shook his head.

"Not much, but if ya ask dat lady I showed ya last night, she might be able to tell ye." Before I could answer back, he quickly shuffled out of the room as if I had just embarrassed him or something. What in the name of all that's holy was that about, I thought to myself. He sounded concerned, as if I touched upon a bad subject. Regardless, I quickly finished my preparations and made my way out into the dining area. Before I could open the door, the old lady from last night grabbed my arm and pulled me back, shushing me and guiding me slowly to my bedroll.

"What is this about?" I grunted, confused and irritated. She didn't answer me. Instead, she lifted the bedroll I had slept on, revealing a trapdoor (I suppose that explains why my body felt like it had slept on a rock last night). She pointed to it with a crooked finger and hissed, "Hide. Quickly now!"

"What's going on?" I asked again.

"No time. Danger is near. Hide! And remember the name Arcadia."

* * *

I quickly scrambled down the trapdoor, unsure of what danger the old lady was mentioning. The catacombs smelt disgusting, almost like an unbearable scent of musk and rotting flesh. Moments later, I heard voices from above the trapdoor, one of which sounded all too familiar: Nord, and a group of his soldiers no doubt. I knew I had to make haste before he found me in here, so I quickly slogged through the smelly catacombs, praying to Saint Elimine I wouldn't vomit. As I continued down the lengthy corridor, I felt something wet graze my feet. The smell of the liquid was just as bad as the corridor itself. Urine, I thought, holding back from gagging again. Then it hit me; I was wading through human waste, and these catacombs were actually for sewage. I was stepping in the feces and fluids of humans, a thought that made me gag even more. Regardless, I had to soldier on not just to escape the guards looking for me, but to escape this ungodly collection of smells.

Soon I began to see light at the end of the tunnel and staggered towards it, nearly tripping on a nest of rats that made their nest close to the earthen walls. Finally, I reached open air again just outside the village, coughing and wheezing as the foul odor of the sewage was replaced by the fresh scent of summer air. With haste I discarded my footwear, now ruined by the waste, and pressed on, the heat of the sand piercing my feet. It was painful without a doubt, but I could not stop now, not with a band of blood-thirsty men chasing after me.

After what seemed like many hours of running, I was exhausted, hungry, and aching. My legs felt like they couldn't go on, and at this point death was certainly a possibility. It felt as though no amount of praying would save me from this. But then, I looked up and saw the most magnificent sight before me: a castle, and a very large one no doubt. I stumbled closer to the gates as if I had no control over my legs. Both guards began to advance towards me suspiciously and, before they could utter a word, I fell to the ground face-first. The next thing I knew, I heard shouting as everything turned black around me.

* * *

When I came to, my head was aching terribly, as if I had taken a very nasty knock. A wet rag fell from my forehead and into my hand as I looked around the room, puzzled to say the least. I was inside the castle, lying in a bed in what I could only assume to be the guest room. Suddenly the door swung slowly open, and an heavily-armored man entered the room. Judging from his looks, he certainly had more hair than face, which had strange blue marks painted across the eye line. War paint, I thought. A warrior.

"You'll excuse the mess I hope," he said with an odd flare in his voice, pointing to the hastily-stacked chairs and books. "Our last guest, a friend of the Baron, had passed suddenly before you arrived and we have yet to remove his personal belongings." He paused as he fiddled with one of the books, a book that I recognized almost immediately: "An Apothecary's Guide to Medicinal Tonics". Yoder used to have that book long ago.

"Oh, but where are my manners?" the man chuckled, shaking my hand. "I am known as Sir Gailla, and you, my friend, are in the city of Jutes."

So, I had not been captured by Nord's men after all. I suppose that's a relief, although I had an anxious feeling that he and his men were bound to search this place as well. I groaned as the pain returned to my head, this time more egregious than before.

"You really should rest," Gailla insisted. "You're not in the best of conditions."

"I'm fine...really," I lied. I was not fine. I was in dire pain, but I needed to get to Arcadia as quickly as possible. I had no time for these hospitality games. "You mentioned a Baron?"

"Ah yes. My uncle, Baron von Thaleis. He erm...is quite busy right now as you can imagine."  
"Grieving over the loss of his scholar friend?"  
"Oh no. He's busy with Roartz."

"And who might I ask is he?"

He took a deep breath. "Sir Roartz, or rather I should say Prime Minister Roartz, is a noble of Etruria on a...business trip of sorts. He's come to Jutes to discuss further plans to purchase the mines at Mount Eburacum."

Mount Eburacum. Even though I spent only a short time there, the very thought of it disgusts me. "What does he want with the mines?"

"I'm...not allowed to talk specifics about-"

"Forget I asked," I cut in, shaking my head. "Curiosity precedes me."

"Oh, not at all," Gailla responded with a slight chuckle. "If I'm honest, the two of them haven't been expecting visitors today."

"I apologize-"

"No need, my dear friend, no need."

Just then, one of the castle guards marched slowly into the room. He bowed respectively and said, "Forgive me, milord, but your uncle the Baron wants to speak with you...and him." He pointed to me, leering as if I was guilty of some crime. In that second I thought something was amiss, but Gailla looked unconcerned. The noble nodded and stood up.

"Looks like rest will have to wait," Gailla said. "Come now, best not to keep my uncle waiting. He can be...impatient."

* * *

The room Baron von Thaleis and Prime Minister Roartz were in was adorned with several bookshelves, paintings, and mounted animal heads. At the forefront of the room was a large fireplace, recently used by the look of it but not in use now. Strange how a castle located in one of the hotter places on Elibe would have a fireplace, I thought solemnly. Below my feet was a lovely handcrafted rug with a rudimentary design of ovals collapsing into the middle. The air smelt like some sort of incense involving pine and elderberry, a scent more welcoming than that of the catacombs back in Eburacum. The two gentlemen turned to face us both, allowing me to grab a look at their faces. The Baron had a thick moustache curled around his lips and a series of pock marks adorning his face, which was littered with folds and wrinkles. His dark gray hair was trimmed very short and well-groomed around the edges, and his clothes showed no signs of wear, as if they were either freshly sewn or pressed. On two of the fingers on his left hand were silver rings, one of them I could tell from a glance being a wedding band.

As for Prime Minister Roartz, he dressed more like a knight rather than a Prime Minister. His hair, while lighter than the grayish tone of the Baron's, was longer and reached just below his neckline. While the Baron had a prominent moustache, Roartz had a goatee covering his pointed chin, and whereas the Baron's nose was smooth at the edge, the Prime Minister's pointed outwards like a raven's beak. The looks on both men screamed bureaucracy and power, something I felt would play a role in the events thereafter. I took a deep breath and prepared to greet them both, my head still aching rather annoyingly, but as I began to open my mouth the Baron turned toward his guards and mouthed the words "Leave us". The two guards nodded, marching out of the room and shutting the doors behind them, leaving the four of us to our conversation.

* * *

_This may look a bit short (and definitely feels like it) but I'm going to continue this in a second part, so stay tuned for that! And as always, don't forget to follow and review if you like this series!_


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